


Not so Different

by SoulSurvivor



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulSurvivor/pseuds/SoulSurvivor
Summary: Something goes wrong with Ladybug's Lucky Charm, allowing a new faculty member at Collège Françoise Dupont to discover secrets of the Miraculous that were not meant to be known, secrets that, for better or worse, will change everyone's world forever.





	1. A Shocking Turn of Events

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Miraculous Ladybug fic. Just as a heads up, the title and summary are subject to change as I make more progress on the story (or when I look back and realize I'm terrible at titles and summaries for in-progress work because I don't want to spoil people or write myself into a corner).
> 
> I hope you enjoy what I have so far. Feel free to let me know what you think. The more feedback I get, the more likely I'll be to stick with it. Keep in mind though that I'm a human being in my last semester of college. I'm also job hunting, so there will be delays between chapters for a while until real life settles back into a rhythm.
> 
> Chapter length will probably vary by a wide margin, but this should be the shortest "chapter." I'm working on Chapter 2 right now. It's almost 7.5k words and it still has a ways to go before it's ready. I also don't have an editor or any pre-readers since I'm new to the fic writing scene. Feel free to message me if you think you wouldn't mind helping a rookie out.
> 
> Well, without further ado, may I present to you, for your viewing pleasure, the prologue:

The streets of Paris were empty and the air was strangely still, not a civilian in sight in the pre-dawn darkness lit only by streetlights. Two young heroes were vaulting and swinging through the air in hot pursuit of a nebulous shadow flying through the cloudy night sky.

“Why do they think running will help them?” Ladybug huffed as she soared through the air.

“One look at me and they know they don’t want this black cat crossing their path.” Chat Noir grinned at his partner as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop.

“It’s too early for this,” Ladybug groaned as she tried to keep her eyes open and focused on Papillon’s latest akumatized victim.

As they approached the Arc de Triomphe, the villain vanished into the darkness above. Ladybug and Chat landed on the sidewalk surrounding the arc. “This cannot be happening,” Ladybug moaned. “I barely got three hours of sleep before people screaming in their sleep woke me. We’ve been chasing Nightmare ever since, and I have a test first thing in the morning.”

Chat put his clawed hand on her shoulder. “Come on, Buginette, I know Nightmare’s been testing our patience, but we can still do this.”

Ladybug flinched at his unexpected touch. Her earrings beeped, reminding them of the strange thing that happened when she used her Lucky Charm a few minutes ago. She brushed his hand from her shoulder and turned away from her partner. She widened her stance and raised her arms, yoyo held tightly in her right hand. She scanned the clouds above for any trace of the villain, wary of the chance of a sudden surprise attack.

Chat dropped his arm and stepped back. “Your Lucky Charm’s never failed us before, even if neither of us saw anything appear this time.”

“Looks like you’re all out of luck this time.” Nightmare’s voice drifted into their ears at just above a whisper. Dark clouds enveloped the heroes as Nightmare materialized beside them. “Now give me your Miraculouses or be trapped in your worst nightmare forev-AAAAAARGH!!!”

The clouds around the heroes receded as sparks raced across Nightmare’s nebulous form and rapid clicking echoed through the street. When the sparks faded, the clouds coalesced to reveal a purple-skinned young boy in starry pajamas and bare feet. He had midnight blue hair and a black butterfly shaped mask around his eyes. Two clacks sounded as something fell to the street. He clutched a purple stuffed lamb to his chest as he spun towards the source of the sound. He glared with piercing red eyes at a civilian man in plain blue pajamas with two purple stripes across the chest pointing a red object with black spots at him in his left hand. He had a brown shoulder bag hanging by his right side with the strap over his left shoulder. His full head of hair matched the brown color of his shoulder bag. His bangs were long and his hair had grown down past his ears. His shoes were as black as Chat’s costume.

Nightmare leapt to the rooftop of the building behind the man and shouted, “I’m gonna get you for that tomorrow night. You’ll all be sorry for ganging up on me.”

Ladybug’s earrings beeped again. “I really wanted to wrap this up, but I gotta go before my transformation wears off,” Ladybug said as she threw her yoyo up to a nearby rooftop. “See if you can talk with that civilian, Chat.”

“Sure thing, my Lady,” Chat replied as she swung away faster than he ever saw before. The metal leads that fell when Nightmare corporealized made a tinkling sound across the road as the civilian wrapped the wire around Ladybug’s latest Lucky Charm. Chat walked towards the man and called out, “Excuse me, sir, but may I have a moment of your time.”

The man jumped back and lost his balance, startled by Chat’s shouting. Chat ran to catch him, but got there a second too late to keep the man from hitting the ground. “Sir, are you okay?” Chat asked as he extended a hand to help the man up. The man slowly sat up on his own and leaned back against the lamp post. He stuffed the Lucky Charm into his shoulder bag and brought his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and pressed his forehead into his knees.

“Sir?” Chat asked again, unsure as to why the man wasn’t responding to him.

“Why?” The man moaned. “I was finally awake this time. I made it before anything bad happened. The heroes got to keep their totems and the victim disengaged without any interference from Papillon. But why?”

Chat looked around nervously before kneeling down next to the man. “Everything is going to be okay now, sir. Ladybug and I will get the akuma and save him.”

He put a hand on the man’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. The man flinched, but didn’t look up. “I’m supposed to help kids. It’s what I was just hired to do. My first day hasn’t even started yet,” he murmured, “and I did the exact opposite of what I was supposed to do. Sure, I might’ve saved our city’s adolescent heroes, but I shot a child with a magically generated taser to do it.”

Chat rubbed his hand on the man’s shoulder in a comforting motion. He glanced down at the ladybug pattern confetti all over the ground for a moment before looking back at the man. “That kid’s gonna be okay, sir. Papillon's villains can take way more punishment than a normal human could. And besides, my Lady’s Lucky Charm has never ended up really hurting anyone.”

The man suddenly looked up and stared right through Chat, his dark brown eyes burning through Chat’s feline green. “I’m in the middle of one nightmare, and then all of a sudden I’m stuck in a nested dream of Paris and her heroes falling to Nightmare because of something I did or didn’t do. I finally wake up and her Lucky Charm is right next to my face,” he looked away and began to speed up as he talked through what happened. “I go through the motions of getting ready to leave my house in a hurry and run like crazy to get to the Arc de Triomphe where it happened in my dream every time. I made it just as they lost Nightmare and crept in as close as I could without being noticed. Nightmare appeared and I panicked. Why did it have to be a kid? It was never a kid in my dream.” The man was shaking in an attempt to hold back his tears.

Chat’s black cat ears drooped as he sat down and leaned on the lamp post next to the man. “I get it,” Chat sighed. “Papillon doesn’t seem to care who he uses against us as long as they’re hurting. I try not to think about it too much, but I know all this fighting with Papillon could get to me too if it weren’t for my Lady.”

“Huh?” The man grew still for a moment and rubbed his eyes. He turned to see the young black clad hero sitting beside him. “Oh, thanks for staying with me, Chat Noir. Could I, uh, could I give you my contact information since I’m probably expecting an angry little visitor tomorrow night?”

“Uh, sure,” Chat replied.

The man fumbled through his shoulder bag for a moment before pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. He wrote down his address and tore the page from the pad. As the man handed the paper to Chat, he chuckled nervously, “It’s about six minutes walking distance from the Arc, but it seems like it must’ve been only three or so with how fast I had to run to get here considering Ladybug was still Ladybug when she left.”

As the pair stood up, Chat asked, “Do you really think Nightmare will be able to find you?”

“The kid has all day to find me and stalk me from the shadows.” The man snorted. “I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

The clouds above were breaking as the first rays of dawn shone through. The man looked up and smiled. “One long night is over. Now we get a chance to prepare for the next.”

The man pulled his phone out of his shoulder bag and yelped. “7:15! My first day at my new job and I’m going to be late!”

Chat tensed up when he heard the time. “Oh no! I gotta get home fast! I’ll share your contact information with Ladybug later. I sure hope I get home before anyone checks in on me!”

The two men quickly shook hands and ran back to their respective homes as quickly as they could as the city began to wake and as businesses began to open. No else one seemed to notice the confetti on the sidewalk.


	2. Awkward Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette and Adrien learn a special lesson at Françoise Dupont. The man they're going to protect the following evening is actually a new school employee who might know more than he's letting on.

Sabine Cheng had just sold her only customer of the partly cloudy morning a pain au raisins when Marinette burst through the door behind the counter with the last fourth of a croissant clenched between her teeth. Sabine cringed as her daughter almost collided with the customer. “Careful sweetie,” she called as Marinette rushed out the front door of her family’s bakery.

“Please excuse my daughter’s behavior,” Sabine explained to the man. “She was getting better with getting to school on time recently.”

The man chuckled. “It’s quite alright. Everyone struggles with punctuality from time to time. I just stopped in for something quick before I finish my own mad dash to school. It’s my first day as a new therapist for Collège Françoise Dupont, and I don’t want to be late- uh, well, any later than I already am. Thanks for the breakfast.”

Sabine smiled. “Ah, I see. Don’t let me hold you up any longer then. Go.” She waved him on. “Go.”

A silver sedan drove away from the curb in front of Collège Françoise Dupont as the man crossed the street and ran up the stairs two at a time. He stumbled once and almost lost his balance as his brown shoulder bag swung forward, but recovered himself at the last moment. Though he did bang his right knee on the last step and scuff his brown loafers. Holding his breakfast in his left hand, he used his right to put his shoulder bag back by his right side. He also flattened out the folds in his green shirt with a yellow stripe across the chest that came from the strap sliding on his left shoulder and across his chest. He checked his brown slacks to make sure he hadn’t ripped them and massaged his knee for a moment.

The man stood up straight again and entered through the front door of the school to see Monsieur Damocles reprimanding Adrien and Marinette for their tardiness. “…this is a real problem, Marinette. If this continues any further, we’ll need to talk to your parents again. And Adrien, I am nothing but ashamed. It am nothing but ashamed. It simply wouldn’t do for a model student to fall to such delinquent behavior.”

The man slapped his free hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. The sudden movement caused all three people to look at him. Marinette’s cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and Adrien’s eyes betrayed a moment of recognition before he composed himself. “Excuse me, sir,” M. Damocles demanded, “but what do you find so fu-”

*BRIIIING*

The late bell cut him off and the two students’ faces gained a panicked look. The man rubbed the back of his head with his free hand and gave a sheepish grin. “I’m not really one to talk, but wouldn’t it be best to let them go on to class for now. Then later, once they have a break from their classes, to have them go to the headmaster’s office so he can discuss proper punishment for their tardiness. They both seem rather anxious to get to class, like they have one of those tests-that-will-take-every-second-of-the-period kind of anxious.”

M. Damocles harrumphed. “Yes, I guess you’re right.” He pointed to the two students. “Come by my office before you head off to lunch. Now go on to class.”

The two students nodded and ran up the stairs to class. M. Damocles turned his attention to the adult in his early thirties standing before him. “Now, who, may I ask, are you, sir?”  
“Oh, right,” the man began, “Mayor Bourgeois did tell me this was going to be a little short notice for you, Monsieur Damocles. At least I would assume you’re Monsieur Damocles based of the exchange I just witnessed.”

M. Damocles raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips for a moment before regaining a more neutral expression.

“I’m sorry, but could you hold this for a moment while I grab my information and letter of recommendation?” The man handed his breakfast over to M. Damocles before he heard a response and held open his shoulder bag with his right hand and reached in with his left. He rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a folder with all the necessary paperwork to prove who he was, why he was there, and why he was qualified for the position. He closed the bag and put the folder in his other hand.

He stopped for a moment when he looked back up at M Damocles’ incredulous expression. He gave a sheepish smile as he exchanged the file for his breakfast. “I apologize for my poor first impression, sir. A rough night does not excuse poor etiquette,” the man explained. “My name is Drake Angelos. As you are most certainly aware, two days ago, the school board and mayor’s office ruled that every school in Paris must have a therapist on staff in light of the rash of terrorist attacks perpetrated by Papillon’s exploitation of our city’s young people. This will be an effort to preempt and reduce the frequency of his attacks by stripping him of his resources. If the students have someone they can talk to who will listen to them no matter what, they won’t wind up in an exploitable emotional state as often. Mayor Bourgeois requested a list of top candidates for the position at his daughter’s school and requested me personally.”

“Ah, yes,” M. Damocles replied. “I was expecting you an hour ago so that I could review your file for myself and give you a tour of the school without disturbing the students, but now that you’re here, we’ll see how much we can do.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Damocles,” Drake grinned. “I don’t make a habit of being late, but last night certainly made today fall into the category of extenuating circumstances. Rest assured, I will be early tomorrow and for the rest of the school year. Oh, and may I eat my breakfast as we tour the campus?”

“See that you do just that, Monsieur Angelos. It is important to set a good example for the students. They must understand the importance of punctuality,” M. Damocles responded. “And yes, you may. May I be so bold to ask for a piece of it? Considering that you brought up last night, I also had an awful night’s sleep and had to miss out on breakfast to arrive here on time.”

Drake broke his breakfast in half and offered one piece to the headmaster. M. Damocles put the folder under his left arm and accepted the pastry with gratitude. “Follow me to my office,” he instructed. “We’ll discuss the particulars of what’s expected of you here and go over some ground rules before I give you a tour and introduce you to your new office.”

**o0o**  

Drake was still in M. Damocles’ office when they heard a knock at the door. Drake was about to leave when M. Damocles requested, “Stay for a moment, Monsieur Angelos. Come in.”

The door opened and a male voice spoke a very polite, “After you.” Marinette walked in first, cheeks three shades of red and eyes downcast. Adrien followed her in, head held high and eyes focused on M. Damocles.

“Marinette, Adrien, you’ve met our new therapist, Monsieur Angelos. He is going to need some help unpacking his things for his office today. You will report to him after school is over and help him with anything he needs. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Adrien replied.

“Marinette?” M. Damocles repeated. “Is that understood?”

Marinette looked over to Adrien and Drake, both of whom gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes, Monsieur Damocles.”

“Good,” M. Damocles replied. “You’re all dismissed. Monsieur Angelos, do be on time tomorrow. I want you to introduce yourself to some of our classes so the students can get to know you.”

“Of course, Monsieur Damocles.” Drake nodded. “I won’t let you down.”

After Drake closed the door, he put his hands on Adrien and Marinette’s shoulders. He gave them a quick shake and then clapped his hands together. “Don’t worry about this afternoon too much,” Drake explained. “I’ll only be bringing in a few boxes today. I have a lot of things on my mind right now, and I don’t want to take up too much of your evening. As long as we all agree to work on improving our time management skills, you’ll be free to catch up on homework or participate in whatever your extracurricular activities may entail in no time at all.”

“Oh, okay then.” Adrien gave a nervous smile. “I’ll see you later then, Monsieur Angelos.”

As Adrien walked away, Marinette squeaked out a whispered “Bye, Adrien.”

Drake raised his eyebrows and smirked for a moment as he looked back and forth between the pair, the space between them growing as Adrien made his way downstairs. Drake gave a fake cough that startled Marinette out of her trance. “I think I might pick something up for dessert from your parents’ patisserie on my way back from lunch,” he mused. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Marinette blinked a couple times before she processed what he had just asked her. “Oh, well, um,” Marinette stumbled for a moment before she decided. “The chocolate chip cookies are always a good choice, Monsieur Angelos.”

“Thanks, Marinette. I’ll keep that in mind.” Drake smiled. “Have a good lunch.”

“You too.” Marinette smiled back and then walked down the stairs, headed for the locker rooms.

Drake sighed. “I would if I were hungry,” he mumbled. “But I just can’t get that boy’s face out of my head.”

He pulled a class photo out of his shoulder bag. He scanned the photo and stopped on a boy on the end of the front row next to where M. Damocles stood. The boy had a small smile and his blond hair nearly covered his eyebrows. His bright blue eyes looked at something off camera, but only slightly above and to the left of where the photographer must have stood. He wore a black t-shirt with a rainbow of stars printed across the chest, simple blue jeans, and gray sneakers. “Christopher D’Larmont,” he whispered to the picture, “it’s time to learn your story.”

**o0o**

Drake was in the middle of the courtyard when the last bell rang, two cumbersome boxes tilting back and forth as he struggled to make it to his office without dropping them. Adrien made his way to him through the crowd of students making for the exit. “Need a hand, Monsieur Angleos?” he asked as he came up beside him.

“Both, if you can spare them.” Drake chuckled and crouched down. Adrien took the top box and followed him to his office. Marinette ran up to them and blurted out, “Let me get the door for you.”

The two men startled at her sudden outburst. A moment quicker than Adrien, Drake recovered and said, “Thank you, Marinette.”

The trio entered the office, and Drake set his box in the far corner with three other boxes. Adrien set his box on top of the one Drake just set down. The two teens took in the rectangular room. From the boxes stacked in the corner opposite the door, they looked and saw a pair of almost empty bookcases on the short back wall framing a window with a yellow shade pulled over it. There was a trio of filing cabinets lined up along the long wall to the right. An ornate desk sat facing the door just in front of the cabinets. Two comfortable, well upholstered chairs sat between the desk and the door with plenty of room to move around. The chair behind the desk looked just like the other two and had a brown shoulder bag hanging off the side of it. A sleek computer sat to the side of the desktop. A few papers and knickknacks were already taking up the free space on the desk.  
Drake sat in his chair and grabbed a large coin and started turning it over in his hand as he started to read over some notes on a pad of paper in front of his keyboard. Adrien shifted his weight back and forth slightly as he continued to look around the room. Marinette stared at Drake, expecting him to tell them to start unpacking boxes any second. When he didn’t, she focused on the coin in his hand.

Two pairs of hands slammed onto Drake’s desk as the teens shouted in unison, “Whoa! How do you have a coin with four faces?”

Drake’s right hand clenched around the coin as he jumped back into his chair. It rolled back a little ways before he stopped it and looked at the excited teens leaning over his desk. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and then his eyes opened wide when he realized what they were talking about. “Oh, I see where the confusion lies. It’s actually two coins,” he explained, “with faces on each side. They’re two of a kind. Each face is unique, but no matter which pair of faces face each other, when brought together in just the right way, no one could tell the coins were ever meant to be apart. Each coin is a unique and exquisite work of art on its own, but they are all the grander for having their partner by their side.”

Drake gave one coin to Adrien and the other to Marinette. “Feel free to look at them all you want,” he offered.

“Wow!” Adrien marveled at the coin in his hand. The face of a lady was embossed on each side. “Where did you get something like this, Monsieur Angelos?”

“There’s no need to be so formal with me.” Drake closed his eyes and chuckled. “I’m here to be a friend you can count on, a friend you can tell anything to without fear of judgement or exposure. Your secrets are yours to do with as you please. They won’t be revealed on my account. You can just call me Drake.”

The two teens stared up at him for a moment. They grew tense and didn't dare to look at each other. They realized he hadn't seen their reaction and quickly looked back down at the coins in their hands. The moment passed.

“As far as the coin origin story goes, it’s a bit of a mystery,” Drake opened his eyes again as he explained. “I can recall the people and stories attached to every gift I’ve been given in regards to my practice, but this is the one gift that breaks the pattern. I remember that a grateful client gave them to me some time ago, but I can’t seem to recall his name or anything else about him or what I helped him through. I remember he said there was something special about those coins, but I can’t seem to recall what it was for the life of me.”

Marinette rubbed her fingers over the faces of the men embossed on each side of the coin in her hand a few times before placing it back on Drake’s desk. “It’s a shame you can’t remember anything about that man,” Marinette consoled. “I’m sure you made him very happy considering the gift he gave you.”

Drake pushed the coin back towards Marinette. “You can hold onto the coins for a while,” Drake offered. “If anything comes back to me you’ll be the first to know.”

“Oh, no,” Marinette countered, “it was a special gift someone gave to you. It seemed like you felt more comfortable looking at those notes once you held it in your hand.”

“Think nothing of it, Marinette.” Drake rubbed the back of his head and laughed. “It would have had the same effect if it were a pen. Though, I guess it was difficult to hide that I’m a bit troubled by the notes I have here.”

Marinette put her coin in her purse and sat in one of the chairs in front of Drake’s desk. Adrien put his coin in his shoulder bag and sat in the other chair. “Is it anything you can talk about?” Adrien asked as his brow furrowed and his lips turned to a small frown.

“I take it I’m not the only one who had a rough night’s sleep last night,” Drake commented. As the two students gave hesitant nods, he continued. “Papillon’s newest akumatized victim is the reason. The boy apparently has some ability to cause nightmares.”

The teens took a quick breath and leaned back in their chairs, shocked by how calmly he talked about his experience that morning.

“My nightmare turned out to be a nested dream sequence where our city’s young heroes lost to Nightmare for a wide variety of reasons.” Drake reached into his bag for a moment, but stopped short of pulling out the object he had reached for. His breath caught in his throat. He swallowed, breathed deep, and continued, speeding up as he did, “Long story short, something strange happened with Ladybug’s Lucky Charm and she wasn’t the one who used it in the predawn darkness. Chat Noir sat with me for a bit after Ladybug left to detransform, but the kid I used it on didn’t pursue her or stay and fight and now I have this sinking feeling that I’m going to have an irate, super-powered, uninvited guest in my house tonight and it’s all my fault.”

Drake was shaking as he recalled the events of the morning, hand still in his bag, but clutched around something that made a low rustling sound, like wood blocks being dropped onto each other in a pile of leaves. He was looking right between the two teens exchanging desynchronized awkward glances with each other and with Drake. Drake stopped shaking a few moments later and looked back and forth at the two students giving him confused looks. He gave a nervous laugh before pulling a box with the symbol of Marinette’s parents’ bakery on it. He tilted his head to the side and looked away from the two students in front of him. “First day of my new job and I get it backwards,” he mumbled through clenched teeth.

He opened the box and looked back to the two teens in his new office. “Have some chocolate chip cookies if you want,” he offered. “I know it might not be the easiest of things to hear someone talk about what may be troubling them, but this is just my way of saying ‘thanks for listening to a working adult talk to a couple students he just met today about why his first day at work was so weird.’”

He looked at the two students grimacing slightly in their seats. “And I’m making it awkward again,” he sighed. He pulled his sleeve up to reveal an analog wrist watch with a simple brown Velcro strap to secure it. “It’s 4:15,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m sure we all realize how important it is to show up on time. You’re free to go. Come back anytime you feel like you need to. The roles will definitely be back to normal then.” The three of them stood and Drake repeated, “Take some cookies if you want. You never know when you might need a quick burst of energy.”

Marinette gently swiped at the air and said, “It’s alright. I live at a bakery. You don’t need to give me anything to eat.”

Adrien rubbed the back of his head with his right hand. “Oh, no thanks,” he echoed Marinette’s refusal. “My dad doesn’t let me have anything unless it’s on his preplanned menu.”

Drake’s eyes twinkled. “It’s alright to have a little something now and again,” he chuckled. “It can be our little secret.” He tilted his head forward slightly and raised his eyebrows. “You can keep a secret, can’t you?”

Adrien eyed the cookies for a moment, trying not to meet Drake’s gaze. He grabbed one with is right hand and held it up to his eyes, examining it. “Well,” Adrien acquiesced, “if it’s just one, I guess I can keep him from finding out.”

Adrien didn’t realize Marinette had followed his lead a moment later. She also picked up a cookie in her right hand and was examining it exactly as he was, but extended her examination to him as well with a few furtive glances out of the corner of her eyes.

“Great!” Drake closed the box and put it back in his shoulder bag. He grabbed his notes and sent them to join the cookies. He turned to grab the bag off from the chair and slipped its strap over his head as he continued, “Because I’d prefer to keep the other things I said secret too. I don’t really want anyone knowing I acted like an overwhelmed university graduate on the first day at his first job all over again.”

He turned back around to a peculiar sight. Adrien was on his second bite of the cookie he held in his hand. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back ever so slightly. He had a dopey smile on his face as he chewed slowly, savoring the flavor. Marinette stared at him with wide eyes. Her jaw was slightly agape.

As Adrien swallowed and put the last piece of the cookie in his mouth, Drake smirked. “You know,” he said with a coy smile, “I got these from Marinette’s family bakery right across the street. I'm sure you could sneak something sweet from them every once in a while without anyone noticing.”

Marinette squawked at what Drake just said. In shock, she tossed her cookie up into the air and flailed around in an attempt to catch it. Drake leaned over his desk and reached out with his left hand. Even with her flailing, he caught it perfectly as if he practiced the exact maneuver hundreds of times. She froze and looked at him through wide eyes and tiny pupils. He made eye contact with her and simply smiled, offering the errant cookie back to Marinette.

She took it back from him, and without missing a beat, Drake stood up straight and looked back at Adrien who had just swallowed the last bite of the cookie. He continued, “From public knowledge and what you just told me, your father seems like the kind of man who is sure of himself in every part of his life and has heavily detailed plans on accomplish his goals. As far as his son is concerned though, I’d wager a guess that as long as he thinks you’re safe and not getting into trouble, he wouldn’t mind how you spend the free time he gives you.”

Adrien sighed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Well,” Drake replied as he walked around his desk towards the door, “my advice to you is this: tell the people waiting to take you home that you were helping a new faculty member move into his office today. It matches up with the kindness and compassion in your heart and it tells them what you were doing here without lying. No one else needs to know we got in trouble for being late this morning. I’ll be introducing myself to some of the classes tomorrow, so once you get my contact information, your father can contact me directly if he has any doubts.”

Drake opened the door and ushered the two students out of his office. He fished a key out of his shoulder bag and locked the door behind him. Once they crossed the courtyard and exited through the front door of the school, Drake bid them both a good night and walked down the stairs to begin his journey home. Adrien turned to Marinette and smiled. He pointed to the still uneaten cookie in her hand and said, “The rumors about your parents’ bakery being the best in all of Paris are totally true if those cookies are anything to go by.”

He took a step down the stairs and paused. He looked back over his shoulder to her and waved as he said, “See you later, Marinette.”

And then he walked down the rest of the steps and to the silver sedan waiting to pick him up.

Marinette waved as the care pulled away. She had a happy little grin on her face and her cheeks were getting pinker by the minute. “The best,” she mumbled, “he said I’m the best.”

When no one was looking, Tikki flew up beside her Chosen’s head and gave her a playful little shove. “Come on, Marinette,” the kwami chided, “you know that isn’t what he said. Now go on home. You still have to finish your school work before you need to go out and protect that man tonight.”

“Tikki,” Marinette reprimanded, “no one is supposed to see you.” Marinette held her purse open and dropped the cookie she’d been holding onto the small pile of crumbs stuck to the fabric at the bottom of the purse. A barely audible “tink” emanated from her purse as the cookie fell against the coin Drake had given her. Tikki flew back down into Marinette’s purse just as she started down the steps and headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I thought more about how I'm going to portray Drake and realized that "therapist" would be a more accurate descriptor of his job than "student guidance counselor," so I changed those few places to better reflect his character.


	3. Evening Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drake arrives home at his quiet flat and prepares for his guests' arrival, lost in his thoughts about what the night might hold for him. As the sun sets, his first two guests arrive. With a moment of peace, Drake offers his hospitality before the three of them delve into preparations for his final visitor. Alone once again, Drake manages to strike up a conversation with Papillon's akumatized victim... though it still doesn't quite go how anyone expected.

Drake stood before the door to his single-level, three-room flat, keys in his left hand. He rolled his shoulders and let out a sigh. The brass characters, “2B,” stared back at him in silence, offering neither comfort nor criticism for what he had been going through so far. He unlocked the door and went inside. He dropped the keys inside his bag as he crossed the threshold. There were still a few boxes stacked up next to the plain pastel green walls of his living room. Most of the boxes sat patiently on either end of his couch, waiting to be carried to his new office the next day. A pair of tough gloves sat on top of one of the boxes. The couch was set back against the wall just to his left. He smiled at the boxes, knowing the memories they contained within could one day be a comfort for others as well.

He wiped his shoes on his fish pattern floor mat and closed the door behind him. He slipped off his shoes and placed them in the space between the boxes on the near end of the couch and his pair of black shoes. He turned and walked over towards the kitchen area of the main room of his flat. The light chill of the kitchen and entry area’s limestone colored, square-tile-patterned linoleum floor couldn’t quite seep through his socks. As he walked, he removed his brown shoulder bag. He placed the bag on the barstool and let it fall back onto the backrest. He opened the bag and reached in for the box of cookies, but flinched when his left hand brushed up against the Lucky Charm he still hadn’t taken out of his bag since that morning. He snatched the box out of his bag and quickly walked around the bar into the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in his quiet flat.

He set the box on the sand-colored, linoleum counter top next to his empty, stainless steel kitchen sink and pulled open the beech wood cabinet in front of his head by its small, steel knob. He pulled out a white paper plate and stared at it for a moment. He shook his head and put it back. He opened the cabinet to the right of the previous one and pulled out a white ceramic dinner plate with black trim. He put it on the counter and, one at a time, took three glasses out of the same place and set them beside the plate. He opened the box and arranged the cookies neatly on the plate. Placing the plate of cookies on the bar top, he turned around to face his stainless steel refrigerator.

He smiled down at the stained apron draped across the wide handle of the freezer drawer as he opened the French doors of the refrigerator. Even as the chill of the refrigerator spilled over him, he felt a kind of warmth build up inside him. “Hey, mom,” he said to the apron, “I’ll be having some guests over tonight just like you wanted.” The warmth inside began to fade. “They might not be the kind of company you were hoping for, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still try to be friends.” He leaned down enough to run his fingers across the fabric as the warmth inside turned cold, threatening to overpower the chill from the open refrigerator. Knowing he’d never know what she thought of his day, he snapped straight and pulled his attention to what he had opened the refrigerator for. He wiped a tear from his eye and knit his brow as he scanned the items before him. As the chill continued to pour into the kitchen, he reached for a milk jug and a bottle of apple juice.

Nodding firmly at his choice, he turned around and walked to the counter where the plate used to be. He set the two drinks on the counter and grinned as if nothing had even happened. He took two steps back, reached behind himself and grabbed hold of the refrigerator doors. He leaned forward and pulled his arms together behind his back gently slinging the doors closed. He hopped forward with a chuckle when he heard the pop of the doors sealing the cold back where it belonged. He turned on his heels and walked around the bar again.

Grabbing the plate of cookies, he walked towards the living area. He listened as the soft tapping of his feet against the linoleum floor changed to a slight brushing sound as his sock clad feet moved against the short sand-colored carpet. He stopped at the mahogany coffee table set in front of his couch and smiled. He leaned over and gently set the plate on the end of his rectangular coffee table closer to his front door. He walked to the window at the other end of the table and looked out into the city lit by the late afternoon sun from between the slats of his blinds. He raised the blinds and took another look at the city. He only saw the store fronts and flats across the street, but he still smiled despite knowing his neighbors wouldn’t have the calm, quiet evening they were expecting. He unlatched the window and opened it wide. The sounds of the city floated in on a warm, gentle breeze. He looked to his right and chuckled at his blank TV screen in the corner beside the window. “Looks like I’ll be the one doing the entertaining this evening,” he taunted. But the TV refused to take the bait. He harrumphed and stomped back over to his shoulder bag.

He looked into the bag and saw his note pad and the source of all his troubled thoughts for the past few hours. He clenched his fists to steel himself. He reached in and pulled out the notes he had compiled over the course of the day. He closed the bag with his free hand, pausing as he felt the bump of the Lucky Charm in the bag through the lining.  He turned and wandered over to his earth-toned recliner that came with the couch of the same color. The recliner was set between the coffee table and the door, facing the open window. He plopped down in the recliner and started reviewing his notes again.

Once the sunset sky caught his attention, he got up and flipped the switch by the front door, bathing the living area in a warm orange light. He sat back down and looked over his notes one last time before letting them pile on the ground between the recliner and the boxes next to his couch. He pulled the picture of Christopher D’Larmont’s class out of the pile and studied the faces of each student until his eyes settled on the face of the young boy he couldn’t stop worrying about. All sense of time faded from his mind as he struggled to figure out what he might be able to do to help him. He didn’t even notice when the two masked teens dropped into his flat through the open window with a pair of small thuds as their feet hit the floor.

As Ladybug strung her yoyo back around her waist, she spoke up. “Monsieur Angelos, Chat filled me in on what happened this morning. We’re here to protect you.”

Drake took a quick breath and furrowed his eyebrows at the sound of her oddly familiar voice. He snapped his head up from the picture to take a look at his guests. His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up before he relaxed them and put on a pleasant smile. “I was hoping you two would show up first,” Drake admitted. He put the photo on top of his pile of notes and stood up. He walked around the table and stuck out his right hand in greeting. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to my home.”

Something scratched at the edge of Drake’s mind as they quickly shook hands, but was swept away as Ladybug continued, “I wanted to apologize for getting you involved in this morning’s akuma attack. My Lucky Charm has never made a weapon or gone to someone else before.”

“Think nothing of it, Ladybug.” Drake smiled and gestured over to his couch. “Have a seat and some cookies if you’d like. I heard on good authority that they are the best in all of Paris.”

A hint of pink appeared on Ladybug’s cheeks at Drake’s complement. Chat’s eyes widened and he licked his lips at the sight of the chocolate chip cookies arranged neatly on the plate at the far end of the table. Ladybug’s blush faded at the slurping sound. She looked over at him and rolled her eyes. “Chat, we’re not here for sweets,” she chastised. “Besides, you’re the last person who would ever need a sugar rush.”

Chat Noir pouted at his lady’s assertion. Drake eyed Ladybug for a brief moment then chuckled. “No need to be a sour puss,” he refuted. “If the boy is hungry, he can eat.”

Chat took a couple steps forward before Ladybug yanked him back by his black leather belt strap of a tail. “We don’t want to impose,” Ladybug insisted, “and besides, Nightmare could be here any moment. We need to get you to safety.”

Drake turned and strolled over to the kitchen area. “It’s no trouble at all. And as much as I appreciate your dedication and concern, Ladybug, life is more than just fighting supervillains or preparing for the next one.” He stood in front of the drinks he took out from his fridge a few hours ago. “You’re guests in my home. It would be rude of me not to offer my hospitality as long as there isn’t any fighting going on. Would you like anything to drink?”

Ladybug let go of Chat’s tail to wave off his offer. She started to speak but Chat cut her off. “Drake has a point, my Lady. It’s good to take a moment to appreciate the simple things in life from time to time.” He hopped over to the cookies and picked one up. He took the largest cookie he could find, closed his eyes, and took a huge bite. He let out a satisfied hum as he chewed and fell back, reclining on the couch. Ladybug sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead, confused by her partner’s carefree behavior when the villain could be there at any moment. Chat swallowed and let out a contented sigh. “Whoever told you these were the best chocolate chip cookies in all of Paris was absolutely right,” Chat mused as he let himself be enraptured by the feeling of the cookie crumbling in his mouth and the heavenly balance of flavors between sweet cookie and semi-sweet dark chocolate. “The only thing that could make this better would be a glass of warm milk.”

“Coming right up!” Drake laughed. He popped the cap off the milk jug and peeked inside for a moment. The jug was a little over half full. Holding the lid against the glass with his right hand, he picked up the jug by the handle with his left and poured its contents into the nearest glass until it was about three quarters full. He set the jug down and resealed it with the lid. He flashed a friendly smile at the two superheroes in his living room as he picked up the glass with his right hand and turned around to face his stainless steel microwave on the counter top beside his refrigerator. He took two careful steps towards the machine and popped open the door with his free hand.

Ladybug slumped her shoulders in defeat and walked towards the cookies. She picked up the smallest cookie she saw and heard the click of the microwave door closing. She tensed up at the sudden noise, but relaxed as she heard the microwave beep as Drake set the timer and pressed start. She took a step back towards the open window sat down just left from the center of the couch, not wanting to get too close to Chat for fear that he might take that as encouragement for his relaxed behavior. She cleared her throat and, over the low hum of the microwave, fumbled, “What, um, what else do you have to drink?”

Drake turned back towards his guests with a smile. His smile dropped for a moment and was replaced by a slight frown and a furrowed brow as he took in the completely different postures of the two masked teens. Chat Noir was reclined on his couch in front of the cookies, his second of the evening already missing a small section. Ladybug sat up straight and kept glancing over at the window as she scanned the room, sizing up her surroundings for a way to beat Papillon’s newest villainous victim. She held her cookie loosely just in front of her chest. Drake flashed a glance at the barstool where he’d left his shoulder bag. He smiled and shifted his gaze to the drinks on the counter when he saw her eyes glance over the shoulder bag.

He was about to respond when the microwave stopped its humming and beeped loudly. He spun around and leaned over to open the microwave door. He reached in and grabbed the glass of milk. It was warm to the touch, but not hot enough to sting his hand as he stood and slowly turned back to face his guests. As he made his way over to the pair on his couch, he finally answered, “There’s milk, water, apple juice, and-”

“Apple juice would be fine,” Ladybug interrupted, frustration seeping through her usually friendly tone. She didn’t see Chat glance over at her with wide eyes for a moment before he turned to look up at Drake. He reached out with his free hand to accept the drink he requested.

Drake gave a sly half smile to Chat and brushed his left index finger across the space between his lips and nose. He winked and turned back towards the kitchen to pour Ladybug’s drink. Chat squinted in confusion before he looked down at the half-eaten cookie and warm glass of milk in his hands. His eyes opened wide in realization and he looked back up at him. Drake had just finished pouring the glass of apple juice and had resealed the bottle when Chat’s gaze caught his eye. Chat flashed a devious grin at him and received a quick thumbs up in response.

Chat tilted back his glass and took a few slow swallows savoring the comforting sensation of warmth radiating from his lips down to his stomach. A soft click caused Chat to lower his glass and look towards the sound, muscles tense. Drake had just closed the microwave he’d left open earlier and had passed Ladybug’s drink into his left hand. Chat relaxed and looked over at Drake who had waited to step out of the kitchen until he was ready. Chat gave him a thin smile. Taking that as permission, Drake walked over to the pair one more time.

Ladybug was staring out the window for Chat and Drake’s entire exchange. Chat turned to her and goaded, “Come on, Buginette, we’ll be fine. Just relax for a bit.” Drake had made it to the side of the table opposite the couch when Chat leaned over and nudged her arm with his elbow. He snapped back to his previous position as she turned her head to face him. Chat Noir gave a silly smile and motioned towards Drake with his head.

Ladybug covered her mouth with her free hand and giggled. “You’ve got a -” Another giggle bubbled out of her mouth and she lowered her hand. “There’s a little something on your face.” She pointed to the space between her nose and lips.

Chat grinned slyly. “Maybe you could give me some help with that, my Lady,” he invited, bouncing his eyebrows a couple times.

Ladybug rolled her eyes and looked away. Finally realizing Drake was standing there, she quickly reached out to accept her drink. Drake gave her a warm smile along with her drink as if he hadn’t the slightest idea about what was going on. He walked back to his recliner and knelt down to pick up the pile of notes on the floor. She let out a small harrumph and looked down in her lap at the snack she was holding. Without turning her head, she stole a quick glance back at Chat who had yet to look away or do anything about his new facial feature. She looked back down and stifled another giggle before reprimanding, “You’re a big kitty. I’m sure you don’t need anyone’s help with this little situation.”

Drake walked towards the door that led to his bedroom, notes in hand, as Chat flirted, “Not ‘anyone’s,’ my Lady, just yours.”

Ladybug stuffed the whole cookie into her mouth and chewed noisily, refusing to let his childishness go any further. Chat stifled a laugh as he watched Ladybug work on the cookie that was just a little too big for her mouth to handle. Ladybug stopped chewing and glared at him before she turned away with a huff and continued to chew her cookie. Chat’s ears drooped along with his grin as he turned back and took another bite of his cookie. Drake had gone into his bedroom and closed the door behind him to where just a crack of light could be seen shining out into the living area. They heard the rustling of papers and the sound of wooden and metal drawers opening and closing coming from the bedroom for the next few minutes. The teen heroes finished their current cookies in silence and didn’t reach for another. They had just finished their drinks when a soft “tap” could be heard as a laptop was closed.

Drake opened the door and walked back into the living area, passing the door to the bathroom on his left. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry I was away for so long,” Drake apologized. “I didn’t expect to be so lost in thought today that I wouldn’t have cleaned up my flat before this evening’s guests had arrived.”

Chat, who had licked off his milk moustache, smiled back. “It’s alright,” he admitted. “We haven’t actually had a chance to spend a lot of time together without having to deal with Papillon’s akumas or having only minutes left after having just beat one before we change back. It was a nice change of pace.”

Ladybug was looking out the window again at the suddenly overcast night until she heard what Chat said. She turned and gave him a quick glare before looking towards Drake with a nervous grin. She quickly interjected, “What Chat means to say is that your room is probably cleaner than his ever could be and that we are grateful for your hospitality.”

Drake reached out his hands to accept their empty glasses. They gave them to him and he smiled back. He walked over to the kitchen and gently set the glasses in the sink to be washed later. He walked back to his recliner and finally took a seat. “I’m glad you enjoyed the snack. It’s not every day a civilian gets to entertain the treasured young superheroes of Paris,” he said as he leaned forward and rearranged the cookies to make it look like there were originally seven on the plate. “You’re welcome here anytime you like. My home is a place of safety.”

Ladybug leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin atop her interlaced fingers. “As much as we’d all like that to be true, Monsieur Angelos,” she protested, “those clouds outside would beg to differ.”

Drake sat back in his recliner and laughed. He swat at the air and joked, “A little evening shower never bothered me.”

Ladybug pressed her hands on her knees and was about to stand up until Chat laid a clawed hand on her shoulder. She looked into his eyes and remembered what Chat told her about what happened after she left that morning. She sat back and relaxed her muscles. “Monsieur Angelos,” he instructed, “Please go find some place to hide. Ladybug and I will be able to fight better knowing you’re safe.”

Drake winced and looked off to his right towards his shoulder bag just out of his line of sight. He looked back at the heroes and stuttered, “D-don’t you th-think that m-maybe…” He clenched the arms of his recliner and gritted his teeth. He let out a sigh and restarted, “Since your Lucky Charm broke pattern so much, are you sure you’re supposed to win against this victim like all the others?”

Ladybug squinted at Drake and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just,” Drake explained, “your Lucky Charm seems to be an object that _you_ use to win a battle against one of Papillon’s victims.” He pointed at Ladybug to emphasize his point whenever he said “you.” “ _You_ summon it. _You_ come up with a plan on the spot on how to use it. _You_ execute your plan. _You_ save the victim. And _you_ throw the Lucky Charm into the air, restoring everything effected by them since getting akumatized.” Ladybug tilted her head a bit, trying to figure out where he was going with his recitation of common knowledge. “But,” he continued, “that didn’t happen this time.”

Drake leaned forward in his recliner, propping his elbows on the armrests and interlacing his fingers just in front of his chin. “What if,” he postulated, “it came to me because fighting this victim is a battle that cannot be won? What if I could get the boy to willingly give up his akumatized object without anyone having to fight tonight?”

Ladybug shook her head. “We’ve tried talking some of them out of it, but it’s never worked.”

Drake nodded. “You're the ones who have what Papillon wants. I would’ve been surprised if _you_ were able to talk _anyone_ out of his control. If the boy doesn’t know you’re here yet, I might be able to.” He placed a hand on his chest and gave a sheepish smile. “Talking with troubled people is kinda my thing after all. I am a therapist.”

Chat leaned forward and interjected, “Why wouldn’t he just attack you to draw us out?”

Drake placed his hands on the front of his armrests and shifted to the edge of his seat. “Papillon missed a huge opportunity to get your Miraculouses after you split up this morning,” he explained. “He could’ve had the boy go after either one of you, but instead the boy ran away from all of us and hasn’t been seen all day. Chat told me your Lucky Charm never hurt anyone, so…”

The two heroes shifted to the edge of the couch cushions and leaned in to hear what he said next. Drake continued, “What if it did something else? What if Nightmare’s cry was just the outward expression of the akuma losing its connection to Papillon?”

Chat put a hand on his chin and recalled, “He did look pretty angry when he saw you this morning.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Ladybug frowned and rubbed her temples. “There’s no way to know for sure what happened to Nightmare with that shock. He could be here at any moment and I’m still trying to come up with a plan.”

Chat laid a hand on her shoulder and offered, “I don’t like this anymore than you do, my Lady. It doesn’t feel right putting a civilian in harm’s way, but we’d still be close by in case anything went wrong.” Ladybug brushed his hand off her shoulder. He paused for a moment as a sigh caught in his throat. He recovered quickly and picked up where he left off. “If we could wait out of sight in another room, we could be out here in a flash if things get to be too much for Monsieur Angelos.”

“Well,” Ladybug admitted, “I really don’t think this is a good idea, but it would give me more time to think.”

Drake stood and grinned nervously. “Since you seem to be in agreement, which room would you rather wait in? I’d prefer to talk with him out here, so bathroom or bedroom?” He walked past his bag on the barstool and stood in the corner between the two adjacent doors. He opened the doors to the rooms in question and turned to face the heroes.

To his right was the bedroom, and his left, the bathroom. The pastel green of the living room walls and short, sand colored carpet continued on in the bedroom. A pair of energy efficient bulbs set in the center of the ceiling behind a glass cover would have been the main source of light in the room had the light been on. In the bedroom just to the left of the door was a waist high dresser made of maple wood with nine drawers arranged in a three by three pattern. The drawers were twice as wide as they were tall. Papers filled four of the drawers while clothes filled three and the last two were filled with tokens of memories he hurriedly removed from the dresser top to make it look presentable. A large square mirror bordered by maple wood sat centered on top of the back of the dresser. A pair of two drawer filing cabinets sat in the space between the dresser and the corner. There was enough space to open the drawers all the way before there was a small maple wood nightstand with a simple lamp, alarm clock, and a couple characters from recent popular animation set in battle against each other. Beside the nightstand was a full size bed set in the far corner of the room with the head of the bed centered under the right edge of the window that came down to just above the maple wood headboard. The window covered the wall back to the left edge of the nightstand. Two thick, sand colored curtains covered the window, blocking most of the outside light from entering the room. A small, build-it-yourself computer desk sat in the last free corner with a simple grey office chair pushed in underneath it. The laptop sat closed in the middle of the small desk top with a wireless mouse on a cat themed pad to the right and a router to the left. Earbud headphones were draped over the closed computer. A closet was set into the right wall half full of clothes for work and half full of boxes full of books he hadn’t read since university.

The reverse “L” shaped bathroom had a grayscale look to it, with stainless steel fixtures and white tile flooring. The linen closet was just to the left of the door, full of sheets, towels, and some bathroom cleaning supplies. A clean sink with the common expected toiletries organized on the counter top around it by height and footprint sat just around the corner from the linen closet. A quartet of bare bulbs hung above the mirror behind the sink. The shower stall sat along the short far wall of the long part of the “L.” A small round toilet sat between the stall and the sink.

Without hesitation, Ladybug stood and answered, “Bedroom.” She pulled Chat up by his arm and led him into the bedroom Drake had cleaned earlier. Upon entering the room, she spun him around in front of her so quickly that he lost his balance and fell backwards onto the end of the mattress at the foot of Drake’s bed. The frame squeaked a few times under his sudden weight before settling.

Chat blinked a couple times before he propped himself up on his elbows and gave a sly grin. “My Lady, I never would have taken you for that kind of girl.”

Drake closed the door to his bathroom until it was open just a crack as Ladybug groaned. “This is not the time for your foolishness, Chat Noir,” she reprimanded. “I’m tired and just want to get this over with so I can maybe get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

Chat sat up with a slight frown, deflated by Ladybug’s terse tone.

Drake rolled his eyes and turned towards the pair of heroes in his bedroom. He smiled gently at Ladybug and offered, “People often say or do things when tired that they would not have said or done otherwise. I’m sure your partner is just as worn out as we are. This may take some time once he gets here, but I won’t dawdle. We all want a good night’s sleep in our own beds.”

Ladybug sighed and walked over to the head of the bed. She spun around and sat without a squeak of protest from the bedframe. She looked towards the doorway at Drake and cautioned, “I know you might think you can handle this, but don’t underestimate Papillon’s villains. We’ll be right here if you need us.”

“Thank you, Ladybug.” He smiled at the two young heroes on his bed, the boy looking at the girl with worry, the girl looking at her lap with her left arm across her waist and her right hand supporting her chin. He closed the door until it was open just a crack like the bathroom door and walked back to the living area, leaving the pair to their thoughts.

He switched off the light in his living area and brought up the dimmer light in his kitchen to about half. The hum of the lights added to the hum of his refrigerator in his once again quiet flat. He walked over to his recliner and took a seat once more. He stared out the window at the ominous clouds hanging low above the city of Paris, waiting for the inevitable.

Minutes ticked by as nothing happened. Drake let his eyes wander the room while he waited. His stomach growled as his eyes landed on the plate of cookies before him, reminding him of how little he’d eaten that day. He sighed reluctantly as he leaned forward and took the cookie in the middle of the plate with his left hand. Holding the cookie between his index finger and thumb, he used his other fingers to rearrange the six remaining cookies to make it look like that was how many were supposed to be there.

He sat back in his recliner again and raised the cookie to his mouth. He put his right hand under his chin and took a whiff of the treat in his hand. The smell of chocolate and vanilla made his mouth begin to water and elicited a more insistent growl from his stomach. He took a bite of the cookie, feeling a soft crunch as his teeth broke through the cookie. Not a single crumb fell to his hand as he closed his lips and chewed the piece in his mouth. It had a thin crunchy layer around the outside and a soft slightly chewy inside. The taste of the sugar and dark chocolate completed the sensation of pleasure anticipated by the aroma still in his nose.

He swallowed and let out a contended sigh. “God bless the Dupain-Cheng family,” he whispered. “May their skills bring joy to anyone who walks through their door.” His short benediction finished, he put the rest of the cookie in his mouth and savored every moment the flavors rolled around his mouth. He swallowed and reached for another cookie when a chill wind blew in through the window.

He drew his hand back and got into a relaxed position in his recliner just as a dark form soared through his window and landed silently at the end of the table. The dark cloud around Nightmare drew inward to reveal his akumatized form with his stuffed, purple lamb still clutched between his chest and the crook of his right arm. He glared at Drake and sneered, “Staying awake won’t save you from my powers.”

“Welcome to my home,” Drake forced out in the politest tone he could muster. He clutched the armrests under his spread fingers until he took a breath and relaxed his posture.

“Tell me where Ladybug and Chat Noir are hiding,” Nightmare demanded, “and I might go easy on you.”

“They were here earlier, but I sent them away,” Drake explained. He interlaced his fingers and set them on his lap. “I had hoped they would’ve found you before you found me.”

“You should have told them to stay instead,” Nightmare taunted. “Now you’re all mine until they get back!” He reached out towards Drake with his free hand and dark purple clouds spilled forth, obscuring his outstretched hand.

Drake raised his left hand like a traffic cop and Nightmare dropped his arm a bit, the clouds still obscuring his hand. He cocked his head to the side and gave Drake a curious squint. With barely a quiver in his voice, Drake interjected, “You’re right. It’s just the two of us for now, but there’s no need for a fight right away. I hurt you this morning and would like to apologize. Since we have the time, would you allow me to make it up to you?”

Nightmare looked down in a moment of deliberation, red eyes passing across the plate of cookies on the table in front of him. He shook his arm and looked back up at Drake, eyes passing over the cookies for a second time. He locked eyes with Drake. “If you think you could jus-” His refusal was cut short by a low growl from his stomach.

Drake gave a consoling smile and pointed his extended hand down at the cookies between them. “Sounds like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t eat much today. Would you like some cookies?” Nightmare dropped his arm a little further and shifted his gaze between Drake and the cookies a few times, refusing to believe what he’d just heard. Drake swept his arm over to the couch and continued, “Have a seat if you’d like. There’s nothing in those cookies besides the loving care of two of the finest patissiers in Paris.”

Nightmare crossed his left arm over his right, but he remained where he was, squinting at the strange man smiling in his recliner. He held a ball of darkened clouds his left hand, ready to fling it at the man if his behavior was all a trick. The man suddenly blinked twice and widened his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just realized I haven’t introduced myself,” he apologized. “My name is Drake Angelos. What would you like me to call you?”

Nightmare’s stomach growled one last time, shattering his defenses. He drew the clouds back into his hand and walked between the couch and the coffee table, eyes fixed on the plate of cookies. He snatched a cookie with his left hand and plopped down onto the couch. He glanced at Drake and muttered “Nightmare” before looking away and taking a greedy bite of the cookie.

Drake sat back in his recliner. He leaned left propping himself up with his elbow. “It is a pleasure to meet you Nightmare,” he said cheerfully. His smile drooped as he asked, “How is Christopher D’Larmont? Have you been keeping him safe today?” Nightmare flinched at the sound of his civilian name. “I only ask because the two of you bear a striking resemblance and neither of you have been seen all day.”

Nightmare wrinkled his nose at him. “What are you? Some sort of stalker?” he accused, mouth full of cookies.

Drake arched back and placed his left hand over his heart. “Oh, no, far from it,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. It was my first day on the job at Collège Françoise Dupont, and I was upset about what I did to you this morning. The health and well-being of the students at that school is my top priority as a therapist, and I just couldn’t get the thought that I might have hurt one of the students I was about to work with out of my head. I was afraid, but I had to know. I asked to see some of the class photos, and my heart dropped when I saw his face. It made me all the more concerned for you both when I found out he hadn’t shown up today.”

Nightmare swallowed the last bite of his first cookie and cocked an eyebrow at Drake’s longwinded explanation. He looked down at the plate and reached for a second cookie. He was about to devour his second cookie when he heard Drake ask, “Can I get you something to drink from the kitchen?”

Nightmare looked over at Drake again and saw him pointing with his right thumb towards the source of the low light in the room. He scrunched his face unsure of what he should say. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was. He looked down at his stuffed lamb and made his decision. He looked back up at Drake. “Get me some nice warm milk,” he demanded.

“As you wish,” Drake replied as he stood and turned away towards the kitchen. A wave of tension passed through his body as he walked towards the last empty glass beside the milk and juice on his counter. When he made it there, he looked back at Nightmare to find he had already grabbed a third cookie from the plate. Drake sighed as he popped the lid off the milk jug and, just like before, held the lid against the glass with his right hand and picked up the jug by the handle with his left hand. Once again he poured its contents into the glass until it was about three quarters full before setting the now nearly empty jug down and resealing it. He picked up the glass and turned towards his microwave. He crossed over to the machine and popped open the door.

“Is there anything else you’d like to eat?” Drake asked as he set the glass in the microwave.

Nightmare swallowed what was left of his second cookie and answered, “This will be good enough… for now.”

Drake set the timer, closed the door and pressed start. He turned back towards Nightmare and tilted his head to the side. He raised his eyebrows as he commented, “With the way you’re going through those cookies, it seems like you haven’t eaten anything all day. I just wanted to be sure you were alright.”

Nightmare had already taken a bite out of his third cookie when he quipped, “You try hiding from direct sunlight from sunrise to sunset and see if you can find something to eat without it trying to burn you away.” A few small crumbs spewed out of his mouth as he spoke. “I’m glad you’re giving me all this, but that doesn’t mean I’ll leave you alone for hurting me before.”

Drake nodded as the microwave beeped, signaling that the milk was ready. He turned and got it out of the microwave in one smooth motion, opening and closing the door with his left hand while taking the glass with his right.

Nightmare watched as he walked back to him. He watched as he stopped in front of his recliner and bent over slightly, offering him the beverage, left hand below the glass while the right held on loosely. Nightmare looked at the cookie in his left hand, then down to his right arm clasped around his lamb, back up to the cookie, and finally to the smiling man looking back at him. He pressed back into the couch as he squinted at him, recognizing his tactical error. Eyes unmoving, he slowly curled his fingers around his lamb and placed it on the couch on the side closer to the open window. He then let go and reached out to accept the drink he asked for.

“Careful,” Drake admonished, “it’s warm.”

Nightmare flinched at his sudden warning, but kept going when Drake renewed his warm smile. Nightmare took the glass and brought it to his lips. He took a sip and smiled to himself as Drake sat back down in his recliner. The kitchen light and refrigerator’s hum were joined only by Nightmare’s chewing and sipping for the next few minutes.

Drake watched as Nightmare put the empty glass on the table in front of him. He watched as he picked up his lamb and held it tightly in his arms again. He leaned back in his recliner and pressed his fingers together, lost in thought for a few moments. He looked away from Nightmare, uncertain as to what he’d say next. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he interjected, “out of everyone in Paris, why Christopher?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Nightmare snorted. “He had a nightmare.”

Drake interlocked his fingers and pressed his hands into his lap. He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows at him. “Of course, but more specifically,” he clarified, “out of everyone in Paris who might’ve woken from their own personal nightmare, why did Papillon send you to Christopher?”

Nightmare tightened his hold on his stuffed lamb. “Because he woke up to one too.”

Drake leaned forward, a slight grimace found its way to his face as concern for the adolescent in front of him overwhelmed him. It passed a moment later as he asked a question that he knew could backfire and ruin everything he’d been working towards. “How so?”

Nightmare scowled. “You try being the middle child in a family where no one has time for you, where crying about a bad dream to your parents, or your ‘genius’ older sister, or your mean younger brother who gets away with everything and see if you don’t just get angry glares and mean words. What was I supposed to do when Papillon sent me to him? Papillon promised that we would never be afraid of being alone again. All I need are the Miraculouses, then no one will be able to ignore me or be mean to me anymore.”

He looked back to the window before glowering back at Drake. “Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir? They should be here by now,” he demanded.

Drake struggled to keep his body in check as he watched and listened to Nightmare describe his origins. He made a mental list of everything he learned as his heart lodged in his throat. He swallowed back his heartache and waited for Nightmare to take a pause. “I can’t speak for anyone else,” he interjected, “but you’ve been the only thing on my mind all day. It might have been because of your master that we crossed paths this morning, but I’m here with you _now_ –” He took a breath and slid to the edge of his seat. He looked compassionately into Nightmare’s eyes. “– I’m listening to you _now_ \- _not_ because of your powers - but because I _care_ about you.”

Disgust flashed across Nightmare’s face at Drake’s words. “Yeah, right!” He sneered. “You’re just like Papillon and my parents. You only talk to me when you want me to do something for you or when you want me to ‘settle down and behave.’ Otherwise, you just leave me alone, like I’m not even there.”

Drake stroked his chin as the implications of Nightmare’s words hit him. “You mean your master hasn’t spoken with you all day?” He dropped his hand to his lap as he pondered. “That doesn’t sound like –”

“He hasn’t,” Nightmare interrupted, “and it’s all your fault!” He glared and pointed an accusatory finger at Drake. “You and that stupid shock you gave me this morning. The last thing he yelled to me was about getting the Miraculous and then ‘zap’ I couldn’t hear him anymore.”

Drake’s eyes flicked rightwards towards the bag on the barstool.

Nightmare caught his movement and jumped to his feet. “What are you looking at?” he demanded. “What’s behind you that’s so important?”

Drake’s eyes grew wide. He put his hands up and pushed down on the air in front of him in an attempt to placate the young boy. “It’s something I wish I didn’t have right now,” he explained. “I don’t know why I kept it back then, and I don’t know why I haven’t gotten rid of it yet. I never wanted to use it, but the nightmares I had before I woke up showed a dark cloud passing over people. They fell over and started screaming. I was suddenly on top of the Arc de Triomphe. Something was in my hand and the cloud was coming towards me. Then I woke up. It happened over and over again. By the time I was actually awake, I couldn’t just lay in my bed after seeing what I saw.”

Nightmare gritted his teeth and squeezed his lamb against his chest. “So you ran to the Arc just hoping I was there so you could get me with that thing and end your nightmare?!” he accused.

Drake took a breath and placed his hands in his lap. “I was afraid for the people that cloud could hurt when I used it. When I saw who was in there,” he admitted, “I was afraid for you because I never thought about who might be in the cloud. I should have found another way and I am sorry I hurt you. Hurting people never gets us what we really want or need anyway.”

Drake saw Nightmare’s clenched fist and the dark clouds that began to flow over his arm. He clasped his hands together and looked Nightmare in his scowling red eyes. “Let me show you I mean you no harm,” he pleaded. “I know I’ve upset you, but please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me,” Nightmare sneered. “What could _you_ do to make it up to me?”

Drake pointed to his right, never breaking eye contact with Nightmare. “That thing has made both of us uncomfortable long enough. Please,” he requested, “allow me to get it out of the room. Neither of us would have to see it or touch it. I know I’d feel better getting it as far away from me as possible. I’ll toss the bag into my bedroom and close the door. Nothing else will happen, then we can both breathe a little easier.”

The smoke around Nightmare’s arm receded back down to his hand. It condensed into a tight ball that he clenched tightly in his left hand. “Fine,” he acquiesced, “go ahead and do it, but any tricks, and you get to see what happens when your dream…” He held the ball up between their eyes for dramatic effect. “…comes true.”

Drake put his hands on the ends of his armrests and slowly pushed himself to a standing position, the two of them never breaking eye contact. Nightmare pointed towards the bag with his hand still clenching the dark cloud ball. Drake turned away and took slow, deliberate steps over to the barstool. Once he had crossed the room, he turned back to face Nightmare. Nightmare’s eyebrows jumped and his nostrils flared as he flicked his hand forward, permitting Drake to continue. Drake bunched up the strap in his right hand and picked up the bag. After he cleared the barstool, he backed away to his bedroom door. He pushed the door open enough to throw the bag into the room, but not enough for the low light to reveal what was inside. He grabbed the top of the bag by its sides and slung it into the darkness. The remaining contents of the bag clattered together as the bed frame squeaked adjusting to the sudden weight of its third occupant. Everyone tensed at the sudden noise, but no one made a sound. Drake reached for the doorknob with his right hand, watching as Nightmare glared him. Drake pulled the door closed and heard the latch click into place. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and walked back towards his recliner just as he had walked towards the barstool earlier.

Drake came to a stop between his recliner and the coffee table. Without a word between them, Drake and Nightmare sat back down simultaneously. They broke eye contact as Nightmare loosened his hold on the projectile in his hand and let it recede back into him. He clasped his left arm over his lamb and gave it a little squeeze with both arms. The next few moments passed in silence as Nightmare looked around the room, stealing a glance back at the man in the recliner every few seconds. Drake sat back in his recliner with his arms draped along the top of the armrests, his facial expression lost somewhere between concern and contentment as he watched the young man on his couch explore the room with his eyes.

Nightmare huffed. “Why do you care about me so much? You hardly even know me.”

Drake cocked an eyebrow at him and answered with a question of his own. “Do you think I shouldn’t care?”

“It’s just,” Nightmare answered, “I came here wanting to get you back for this morning, and all you seem to do is try to take care of me.”

Drake sat up straight and turned towards his young guest. He interlaced his fingers and placed them on his lap as Nightmare pointed at him and continued, “I know you’re afraid of what I can do to you. You know I still haven’t changed my mind about doing that, so you can’t be doing all this to try to make me not hurt you. So why-”

Drake raised his eyebrows in concern and interjected, “Which mind hasn’t changed?”

“What?” Nightmare drew back his hand and scrunched his face at the odd question.

Drake took a breath before expanding on his question. “Has the mind loyal to Christopher’s desires remained resolute on harming me or has the mind loyal to Papillon’s desires remained resolute? Christopher may not be able to interact with the world while you’re here, but the way akumatized people present themselves seems to stem from the personality and memories of their host. With your direct connection to Papillon interrupted, it would be reasonable to assume only your design remains to demand that you attempt to complete the task he gave you. If that’s the mind that hasn’t changed, then the desires of your host seem to be more important than your unflinching obedience to your master.”

“ _What?!_ ” Nightmare shouted as he scrunched his face at Drake’s long-winded explanation.

“Let me phrase it another way.” Drake reached out towards Nightmare with upturned hands. “Would you say that all Christopher wanted was someone to listen to him for as long as he needed someone to listen without having to fear being judged or ridiculed? Would you say that all he wanted was a place where he didn’t have to wear a mask to hide his true feelings, a place where he could just be himself? Is that not what you have right now?”

Nightmare pet his lamb with his left hand and looked out the open window away from Drake, defenses cracking. “Yeah, but…”

“Nightmare,” Drake leaned forward and continued with gentle firmness, “I am a therapist. Not only is it my job to care about other people, it is my passion. There isn’t a single person I’ve met that hasn’t drawn me to them. I could say your family was worried sick when they found out you were missing this morning, and that your parents didn’t go to work today because they were trying to find you. I could say the same thing about _both_ of your siblings and not going to school today.” Nightmare looked back at Drake, eyebrows furrowed as if what he was hearing couldn’t possibly be right. “I could tell you about the fury in your mother’s eyes when I told them what happened this morning when I found you, or the regret in your brother's eyes when he realized he might've been part of why Papillon targeted you.” Nightmare’s hand shot up to his mouth, stifling a small gasp. “I could tell you about how your sister tried to form a plan for the four of them to search the city for you. I could tell you that your mother was so intent on righting the wrongs she just learned of that she didn’t listen as your father tried to remind her to take her phone with her before she stormed out of the house. I could tell you of the relief your father felt when I told him I’d do everything I could to make sure you were safe when I saw you next.” Nightmare tightened his grip on his lamb as he began to shake under the weight of Drake’s revelation. “I could say plenty of things about your master, Papillon, that would be correct, but out of place. But the only thing you need to hear now is that our bad dreams _do_ end. Things will take time and they might get worse before they get better, but they _can_ get better.”

Drake slid off his recliner and got down on his knees before Nightmare. Nightmare looked back at Drake in shock, tears still unshed. Drake gave a gentle smile and raised his arms towards Nightmare, offering a hug, as he finished, “They will get better, but until _we_ get there, it’s okay to cry.”

Nightmare’s final defenses shattered as he let go of his lamb and practically threw himself into Drake’s waiting embrace. He buried his masked face in his neck and wrapped his arms around the kind man before him. Drake didn’t even flinch as the cool, smooth texture of the mask brushed up against his neck, sending a slight tingling sensation radiating out across his body. Nightmare sniffled before he sobbed into the green fabric covering Drake’s shoulder. Drake wrapped Nightmare in a gentle hug and started rubbing small circles on his back with one hand and held the back of his head with the other, refusing to acknowledge the odd sensation spreading up his arms.

Nightmare gave Drake a tight squeeze as he continued to sob harder into his shirt, causing Drake's palm to still as his eyes opened wide. The surprising strength of the young, akumatized boy took his breath away for a moment. Still in Nightmare’s tight embrace, Drake took a breath and returned the hug in kind. “There, there,” he soothed, “it’s going to be okay.”

Through his teary, heaving sobs, Nightmare managed to stutter concern for his comforter. “We’re going t-to need to convince th-that man that I didn’t lose thi-is way if you don’t wa-want him trying t-to make an example out of y-you.”

“We can get to that later.” Drake answered as he gave a small nod. “For now, just let it out.” He resumed rubbing Nightmare’s back. “Let it all come out.”

The pair remained together on the floor like that for the next few minutes until Nightmare ran out of tears to shed and pulled away from the embrace. Drake cupped Nightmare’s head in his hands and offered a gentle smile.

“I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” Nightmare admitted as he deflated a little into Drake’s hands.

Drake rubbed his thumbs against Nightmare’s damp cheeks. “I know,” he acknowledged, “but I’ll be ready for whatever we have to do next if you’ll let me get a couple things from my bag.”

Nightmare stood suddenly at the mention of the bag. “Wh-what do you need from that bag?”

Still kneeling, Drake answered, “Just my keys and my inhaler. I have exercise induced asthma and –” he let out a small chuckle “– running for my life seems like one of those things that might cause an attack, so I just want to be ready. Once I get those things, I’ll come back, put my shoes on, and grab those gloves.” He nodded back towards the stack of boxes beside the couch. “Then we can go out and play the roles we’ve been assigned.”

Nightmare turned away and picked up his lamb. “Okay,” he pouted, “but we’re leaving through the window, not the door.”

Drake stood and walked towards his bedroom. “That’s fine with me,” he conceded. He opened the door just enough to slip into his room. Once inside he closed the door and flicked on the light switch. He heard a distinctly disgruntled hiss come from the black clad hero as the light turned on. He looked over and saw the two flash blinded heroes squinting their eyes shut along with the two items he mentioned earlier sitting on the bed between them.

He walked up to the bed and sighed. Just loud enough for Nightmare to hear in the other room, he said, “It’s going to be okay. Nightmare and I are going to go play villain and victim for a bit.” He smiled at the two young heroes who stared back at him incredulously. “Once news of the attack hits social media, Ladybug and Chat Noir will show up a few minutes later and save the day like they’re supposed to.” He picked up his inhaler and pocketed his keys in the left front pocket of his slacks. He turned around and walked back to the door. “Everyone wins.” He turned off the light and exited the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

“Who were you talking to in there?” Nightmare questioned.

Drake jumped and held his inhaler close to his chest, not expecting Nightmare to have crossed over to the barstool by the time he returned to the living room. “Oh, that,” Drake admitted with a sincere smile, “I self-talk sometimes for various reasons. This time I just needed a little confidence booster.”

“Okay.” Nightmare gave him a sidelong glance. “What about that hissing noise?”

“Oh, you heard that?” Drake rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I just wasn’t thinking when I turned the light on. The sudden difference in light level… well, you know…”

Nightmare shrugged and said, “Okay.” He then turned and walked towards the window, stopping next to the TV, out of sight from the street below. “Ready when you are.”

Drake walked over to his brown shoes and put them on. He put his inhaler down next to his gloves and picked them up. He put them on and turned towards Nightmare. A small, knowing smile appeared on his face as his eyes swept across the plate of cookies to see that only two remained.

Drake picked up his inhaler and uncapped it. He breathed deep as he pumped the end of the inhaler. The cold puff of medicine woke his throat with a start as it rushed into his lungs. He let out a sigh and capped his inhaler. He nodded at Nightmare and said, “Ready.” He put his inhaler back on top of the boxes and walked over to Nightmare.

A mischievous grin spread across Nightmare’s face. “Well, well, well then,” he scowled and shouted, “It’s time _you_ got what’s coming to you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a couple months since my last post to this story. Heh heh...
> 
> Life news: I'm out of college now and have a job. 
> 
> Pros: income  
> Cons: less free time
> 
> I've crossed paths with someone to be a sounding board for future chapters, so even with less time to work on content, I'll probably have more motivation to get chapters out faster. I'd like to do one a month, but that's not a hard deadline.
> 
> Feel free to let me know your thoughts on what you've read so far. The more comments I get, the more likely it'll be that I invest more of my free time with this story than with Netflix or video games.


	4. A Strange Sort of Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare abducts Drake and takes him to a familiar location, prepared to toy with him until the heroes arrive to take him down. As Drake runs out of options to avoid a painful fate, the heroes arrive to do battle with the akumatized boy. The spectacle of their fight ends shortly after it begins. After it's all over, Drake has a few moments to address the onlookers and a TV audience and then talk alone with Christopher before his family comes to take him home.

People crouched down as broken glass and pieces of wall exploded out and rained down on the street outside of Drake’s flat. They heard a young voice shout, “I think it’s time I _schooled_ you on why people like you shouldn’t mess with people like me!” Some pointed and shouted while others whipped out their smart phones as they watched a dark cloud race out from the building with the arms and legs of a helpless victim flailing about as it rose into the night sky.

A few streets away from Collège Françoise Dupont, the cloud dropped low towards the ground, and the victim rolled out onto the sidewalk. Drake came to a stop on his back and panted as the cloud coalesced into Nightmare’s floating form.

“What’s the matter, old man?” Nightmare jeered. “We haven’t even begun our fun and you’re already out of breath!”

Drake rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled and his vision faded for a moment before his blood got back up to his head. He looked up to Nightmare, and his eyes widened as he saw a handful of ball shaped clouds floating around the boy. One of the balls shot towards Drake from his right. Drake managed to throw himself left just in time to dodge the shot, but with a little too much momentum, he smacked right into the decorated window on the storefront of Muldoon’s shoe shop.

Nightmare laughed as Drake reeled back and rubbed his face, trying to make the pain subside. “What’s wrong?” he shouted down at the man. “Can’t take me by surprise this time? How does it feel to be on the other end? Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

Instead of looking up to his abductor, Drake stared at the boots behind the glass of the darkened store room and mumbled, “Really?! I’m finally awake and get to see what storefront I slam my face into and it’s a meme?!” He shook his head to clear his frustration and the fog of his collision with the glass from his thoughts and turned away. Without paying any mind to Nightmare, he started running down the sidewalk as fast as he could.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nightmare demanded. He fired off two more shots at his fleeing victim, one slightly left and low, and the other slightly right and high.

Drake looked back at the sound of the demand, and saw the dark orbs flying towards him. He ducked down and jumped right just enough for the balls to sail past him. He heard little screams as they flew by his head. As soon as they passed, he sprang forward and kept running.

Nightmare clenched his fists and started floating after him, knocking out street lamps with his dark projectiles as he went. He threw three more projectiles towards Drake in a spiraling pattern.

Drake looked back once again and saw the orbs flying towards him. He threw himself left, sliding part of the way across to the hood of a parked car next to the sidewalk as the orbs screamed harmlessly by. He spun around and got his legs under him just as another projectile shot through the space where his head used to be. He leapt to the roof of the hatchback parked just in front of him as another orb flew across the hood where he once squatted, but fell down hard when his feet caught on the slight overhang of the trunk. Adrenaline surged through Drake’s veins as the unnerving sound of laughter began to float down to his ears. He wobbled a bit as he stood, but steeled himself as he heard two small puffs followed by what sounded like someone taking a big breath. With two quick steps, he sprang from the roof of the car as a pair of screams rose behind him. Panic flashed across his face as he threw up his arms and kicked forward with enough force to flip himself over backwards. He was upside down and perpendicular to the ground as one screaming ball flew under him, just missing his nose and left arm. As his flip drew him parallel to the ground, a chill rushed up his back, the second orb missing the back of his head by millimeters. He pulled his left leg in just before he landed in the intersection. He came down hard on his right leg, white hot pain lancing up from heel to hip as he felt something shift just above his ankle. He eyes teared up as his momentum carried him downward. He sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth as he stomped down with his left foot to fight back desperately against his fall.

Horns blaring, cars screeched to a halt to avoid hitting the man in the intersection. Drake flailed his arms wildly as he stumbled forward just enough to avoid a painful collision with the hood of a blue sedan. He dragged his right leg behind him and frantically threw himself forward with his left, almost falling with every step he took, left leg throbbing with exertion. He managed to make his way out of the intersection, just before he would’ve been caught in the middle of a multi-car pileup.

Just as he made it to the sidewalk, his legs gave out from under him. He fell forward hard, knees striking the cement just before his palms. His slacks tore at the knees and grew damp with the bloody abrasions that formed just underneath. His tough gloves held together, but he still felt an unsettling pop in the middle of his left forearm. His hands slid forward as he collapsed to the ground the rest of the way. His heart was racing from the intense exertion and injuries he just endured. As pain radiated from his right ankle and left forearm, he grit his teeth and pushed himself over with his good arm.  He pulled himself to a seated position and started to review his injuries. He felt his throat begin to constrict, making it even more difficult to recover from the exertion he’d just put himself through. His eyes flashed over the wreck as he looked down to his legs. He forced out a mirthless laugh. “Well, that’s one cover of Metal Crusher I can do without,” he huffed through clenched teeth.

Drake drew his left leg in with a grunt and propped himself up with his right hand on the ground. He pushed himself up as best as he could, flailing with his right arm in a desperate attempt to not fall over again. He felt his airway continue to tighten as he found a tenuous balance on his left leg, exhaustion clawing at his aching muscles. He held his injured forearm away from his chest with his right hand and searched the rooftops for any sign of the heroes of Paris.

Nightmare’s borderline maniacal laughter drew his attention back to the source of all the danger. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw. Nightmare floated above the center of the wreck in the intersection. More dark orbs than he could count floated around the boy, spanning an area as wide as the intersection from just above the wreckage to just below the top of the street lights.

 _I just dodged three attacks._ A sense of doubt about his plan finally began to build in his mind. _If this were a game, I might as well be on 1 HP._ A sense of unease met with a dangerous sense of familiarity. _I have no way of fighting back._ A strange combination of amazement and utter horror took hold of his mind. _I tried to make friends with a kid who calls himself Nightmare?!_

Nightmare laughed manically and pointed at his helpless victim. “Did you really think waking up would save you?! After all,” he taunted, “it’s me, your best Nightmare!” He reached back in windup for an overhand throw and slung his arm forward with an “uuraaAAH!!!” causing the projectiles to scream towards the man with no hope of escaping them.

Drake cringed and looked away as things clicked into place in his mind. _This must be how the human felt just before Tor-_

His train of thought was interrupted as a black-spotted, red yoyo wrapped around his torso and yanked him well out of danger from Nightmare’s attack. The yoyo unwrapped from his waist just before two pairs of strong arms caught him, the black pair under his back and the red pair under his legs. The teen heroes gently lowered him to the floor of the rooftop terrace of the Dupain-Cheng Bakery.

“I warned you about not underestimating what they’re capable of,” Ladybug chastised as she released his legs and looked over his injuries.

“Duly… noted,” Drake wheezed, in English.

Chat removed his arms from the panting man’s back and stood up beside him. The two heroes gave him a concerned look as he realized his mistake. _Did I just…_ He winced. _Yeah, I did._

“Akuma… in… stuffed… lamb,” Drake choked out in French once again between quick, heavy breaths. The pain of his injuries combined with the fact that his asthma was the only thing attacking him now drew his mind back to the real world.

“Thanks for the tip, but we’ll take it from here.” Ladybug acknowledged him with a nod. She leapt up to the terrace railing and scowled down at the supervillain floating in the intersection. “I know no one expected what happened this morning,” she scolded, “but don’t you think that was a little much?!”

At the sound of her voice, Nightmare stopped searching for his victim among the civilians who were escaping the violent scene. The drivers of the wrecked vehicles all managed to escape when they saw Papillon’s villain attack Drake that final time. A few of them suffered minor injuries from the crash, but nothing that slowed their flight from the battleground. Nightmare snapped around and glared up at the spotted heroine, clenching his teeth and shaking his fist at her. “We were just starting to have fun!” he protested. “I finally had someone paying attention to me and you and your stupid cat had to come along and ruin everything!”

Chat Noir leapt up next to Ladybug on the railing, baton in his left hand and a small, L-shaped item in the other. His black ears were tucked back flat against his head. “Hey, I resent that remark!” He whined. “I’m actually doing really well this year!”

“Chat!” Ladybug shouted, eyebrows raised behind her mask. She turned and gestured back towards Drake with both hands, angry that he hadn’t done something to help the civilian.

Chat looked back at the man struggling to breathe behind them and flinched. “Oh, right,” he apologized, eyes downcast. “Sorry, my Lady.”

Ladybug sighed. “I can give you a few moments, but don’t take too long.”

Chat nodded and leapt back to Drake. He knelt down and placed the object in his good hand. “Sorry we didn’t intervene sooner,” he apologized. “With what you did earlier, neither of us thought he’d escalate that quickly.”

“It’s fine,” Drake wheezed. He popped the cap off his inhaler and took a puff of medicine. He put the cap back on and gave a shaky, empty laugh. He dropped his inhaler and shook the glove off his right hand. “Best laid plans of mice and men,” he moaned as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“You need to be more careful with your asthma,” Chat warned. “This could’ve been even worse if I didn’t spot your inhaler before we left.”

Drake’s breathing finally began to steady, but his heart was still racing.

Chat stood over the civilian once again. “Ladybug can fix you up when this is all over,” he declared. “Let us take it from here.”

He turned to go, but Drake reached out with his right hand, grabbing the black clad hero’s leg. A slight tingling sensation passed up his arm and radiated out through his body before Chat turned back and broke contact. Drake met his eyes and gave a warm smile through the throbbing pain of his injuries. “Dark one, I am truly grateful for the save, but you need to forget about me for now. Your partner needs you more than I do,” he counseled. “Do what you have to do to get on the same page with her and I’m sure you two will have this wrapped up in no time at all. I’ll be fine.”

“Knowing you’re getting your breath back is enough for now,” Chat encouraged. He nodded back over his shoulder. “We’ve handled worse.”

Drake smiled up at the black clad hero. Chat smiled back and turned towards Ladybug. She had been covering them by using her yoyo to break Nightmare’s shadowy projectiles as they soared towards the rooftop.

Chat leapt down to the top of a street lamp on the corner opposite the bakery and propped himself up by extending his baton between his hands and the pole supporting the light. “Why don’t you stop throwing shade at my Lady like that?” he taunted. “I’m a much better target anyway.”

Nightmare turned towards Chat and let the dark clouds flow out and cover his arm until it formed a large, nebulous replica of the appendage it covered. “Give me your Miraculous already!” He demanded as he took a swipe at Chat.

Chat leapt around the intersection to the next street lamp, but didn’t realize Nightmare had kept swinging until it was too late. He looked back just as Nightmare’s arm collided with his body and slammed him into the second story wall of the bakery where Ladybug was overlooking the situation, shaking the building and leaving a slight crater in the wall.

Nightmare closed his nebulous hand around the stunned hero and mocked, “Why don’t you go get stuck in a tree or something?!” He tossed Chat into one of the trees in the nearby park.

“Chat Noir! No!” Ladybug shouted as her dazed partner flew through the air. She grit her teeth and clenched her yoyo. “Sorry kid,” she shouted, “but I think it’s past your bedtime! LUCKY CHARM!”

She threw her yoyo up into the air and, with a pink flash of magic, a long, cylindrical, red object with black spots dropped down into her hands. It was made out of aluminum and was wider at one end than the other. She looked down at it and realized it was a baseball bat. “This is no time for games,” she mused. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

As Ladybug summoned her Lucky Charm, Chat crashed through a few branches, stopping short of falling through the bottom layer to the ground below. “Rude,” he groaned softly before grabbing his baton from the broken branches above him. Baton in hand, he dropped down to the ground below and made his way back towards the fight, massaging some of his aching muscles on the way back.

Ladybug leapt across the street to a roof that would give her more room to maneuver. She propped the bat over her shoulder and taunted, “Don’t mean to bug you, but I’m still up here!”

Nightmare let the clouds drift away from his arm and condense into more projectiles. “Not for long, you’re not!” he shouted. He threw up his arm and the volley screamed towards Ladybug.

Ladybug quickly shifted to a batter’s stance and swung at the approaching orbs. Most of the volley missed her entirely, but the couple that would have hit her met with the swing of her bat instead. Those balls turned pink and rocketed back towards Nightmare.

Chat shouted “CATACLYSM!!!” and the dark aura of his destructive power surrounded his right hand. He watched as Ladybug’s return volley hit Nightmare square in the chest, knocking the villain to the ground. The instant he hit the ground, Chat leapt out from the park and over the wrecked cars in the intersection. He landed next to the dazed boy and snatched the stuffed lamb away from him, his destructive magic blackening the plush lamb.

“Look, my Lady!” He held the lamb above his head and smirked up at Ladybug. “I got you a gift!” He tossed his prize up towards Ladybug and watched the dark akuma fly out as the lamb disintegrated. He returned his baton to its resting place on his back as a smug grin spread across his face at another successful akuma encounter with his Lady.

Ladybug dropped her bat to the roof and equipped her yoyo. “No more evil doing for you, little akuma!” she declared as she spun her yoyo around over her head. She let it fly and caught the insect with expert precision. She drew her yoyo back in and popped open the compartment containing the now purified akuma. She started, “Bye-bye, little butterf- what?!”

Instead of being a pure white like it ought to have been, the purified akuma had green wings that faded to a light blue on the tips of the larger wings and dark blue on the smaller wings. “Could this night get any weirder?” she complained as it flew off into the night. She picked up the bat from the roof and threw it into the air as she shouted, “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!!!”

The bat burst into a swarm of magical ladybugs that flew out to restore everything damaged from the battle. Cars were repaired and moved back out of the intersection. The damaged buildings were restored, and the broken limbs of the tree set back in place. Light shone out of the restored streetlamps. People’s clothes were restored with no stitch out of place, and their injuries were healed.

Instead of flying past Drake like the rest of the swarm did with the other objects and people they restored, the ladybugs that healed Drake disappeared into him. He sat up with a panicked start as his whole body tingled with energy, sucking in a deeper breath than he had ever been able to before. He felt the bones just above his ankle and in the middle of his forearm pop back into place and seal back together as if the bones were never broken in the first place. A slight pink glow radiated from his entire body with interlacing strands of black flashing out here and there. He looked around, but no one seemed to notice the odd event. The light faded and the pain from his injuries and soreness in his muscles vanished.

A wakeful alertness replaced his exhaustion, and his senses felt more alive than ever, almost like he was witnessing the city for the first time all over again. He could see fine detail in everything he looked at, no matter how far away they were from him, from the veins in the leaves of the potted plants on the terrace to the grain in the individual bricks of the buildings on the far side of the park. His sense of smell and taste nearly overwhelmed him with smells and tastes filling his nose and mouth both pleasant – as those from the bakery long since closed for the night – and repulsive – as those from the waiting vehicles and disgruntled, yet curious, crowd that had gathered for the spectacle of a nighttime superfight.

Christopher’s lamb reappeared on the terrace next to Drake, its normal white coloring restored. Drake reached out and picked it up. As his fingers closed around the fluffy fabric of the lamb’s wool coat, he was startled to find he could make out the individual fibers by touch. He placed his hand on his chest to feel his shirt and was amazed to realize that the rest of his skin was just as sensitive. The shirt he had once considered smooth felt ragged and rough even after only having that particular shirt for only a few weeks. His nose wrinkled in discomfort as he realized similar unpleasant sensations from the rest of his body covered by what was recently one of his favorite outfits. Drake put his glove back on, struggling to ignore his growing discomfort, and pocketed his inhaler in the right front pocket of his slacks, noting how irritating it felt to have something slide so tightly against his skin through the fabric of his pocket.

Drake rose to his feet with a grimace and walked to the railing. He looked down to the street below and saw the owner of the lamb he held rise to his feet on shaky legs. If he focused, he could pick out distinct voices and the sounds of movement as the voices’ owners moved around.

Chat came around in front of the boy and clasped him by his shoulders in support as the boy tried to get his bearings. “Whoa there, kid!” he admonished. “Take it easy!”

Christopher stumbled backwards with a start, but somehow managed to remain upright. “Chat Noir?” he asked in a hurried voice, “Oh my gosh, are you oka– Wait!” He slapped his hands to his scalp as his panic began to rise. “What about that other guy? Did I hurt him bad? Is he okay?”

A bitter aroma rose up to the terrace, overpowering the scent of the crowd and car exhaust. Drake tensed up as he watched Chat reach forward and place his hands on Christopher’s shoulders again. “Hey, it’s alright,” Chat assured, “Everyone’s just fine. Ladybug fixed everything. We’re all going to be just fine.”

He tried his best to comfort the boy, but kept feeling a sense of unease rising in his gut. Papillon’s victims weren’t supposed to remember things about whatever they did while akumatized, so why did this kid seem to remember?

Ladybug leapt off the roof, somersaulting through the air. Drake felt a slight vibration in the air as she descended from the peak of her jump. He watched her as she fell and noted that she hadn’t broken a sweat throughout the whole battle. She stuck a superhero landing next to the pair and suggested, “Why don’t we get out of the street so these people can get on with their evenings?”

She stood and led the boys over to the sidewalk in front of the bakery, but Christopher couldn’t stop looking around. “Where is he?” he asked frantically.

“Chat,” Ladybug suggested, “I think we still have a friend watching over us. Maybe you could help with that.”

Chat looked up and saw Drake leaning over the balcony. Drake smiled back almost pleasantly and waved the regenerated toy through the air in a friendly greeting.

“Right you are, my Lady.” Chat nodded and took his baton from its resting place on his back. He extended his weapon until it touched the ground and extended a meter over Drake’s head. “Going down?” he probed.

Drake chuckled, “I would appreciate the assistance.” He sat on the railing and swung his legs over to face the silver pole. He locked his feet between the bars beneath the railing and slid forward. He held the lamb in his right hand and reached out to grasp the pole with his left. Having secured his grip on the pole, he untangled his legs from the bars and swung himself onto the pole. The moment he wrapped his legs around the pole, he felt it glide against them as it shrunk down signaling his descent. As he descended, an unexpected thought crossed his mind: _These are the wrong clothes for something like this. As if there were any clothes that could be…_ Shocked at the unexpected thought, he almost lost his grip on his only safe passage to the ground. Regaining control over himself, he tightened his grip on the pole, as there were still two stories between him and the ground.

Back on the ground, Chat held the pole steady with one hand and looked over to Ladybug with a smug grin. She met his gaze and rose her fist to meet his. “Pound it!” they said in unison as they gave each other their congratulatory fist bump.

A meter from the ground, Drake dropped from the pole and stuck the landing. No sooner had he touched the ground than Christopher gasped, “You’re okay!” Drake held out the lamb for the boy to grab, but startled as the boy ignored it wrapped his arms around his waist instead. He could feel the boy’s racing pulse.

“I’m so sorry!” Christopher apologized. He looked up at Drake and tears began to form in his eyes. “You were so nice to me,” he sniffled. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He buried his face in Drake’s chest and begged, “Please don’t be mad at me!”

Drake smiled down at the boy and stroked his head with his free hand. He reached around behind him and pressed the lamb into his back as he returned the hug. He felt a subtle flinch from Christopher at the touch of his lamb against his back. “Hey, hey,” Drake consoled, “You didn’t do anything to hurt me, and I will never be mad at you for any of this.”

“You won’t?” Christopher looked back up at Drake, tears already trailing down his face.

Drake smiled sweetly. “I promise, and I always keep my promises.”

Drake’s eyebrows shot up in realization. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet. My name is Drake Angelos,” he declared, “and I’m here to help you.”

Christopher backed up suddenly and looked away nervously. “The last person who said that to me turned me into a supervillain,” he admitted, a quiver in his voice.

Drake dropped the lamb and knelt down in front of him. He clasped Christopher’s shoulders firmly. “Christopher.” He shook him lightly to get his attention. “I _promise_ you,” he declared, “I will _never_ be like that despicable terrorist, Papillon.” He pressed his hand to his chest as he continued, “I would rather suffer the agony of my own personal _worst nightmares_ than take away the freedom of another person. Do you understand?”

Christopher considered his words for a moment then nodded.

Drake smiled as he reached down and grabbed the lamb beside him. “Good.” He nodded back. “That’s good.”

He offered the lamb to Christopher once more and was surprised when he backed away from it and crossed his hands in front of his chest. At that same instant, a bitter scent washed over him again. Drake frowned, realizing the source of the scent and its meaning. He placed the lamb back by his side. “I’m sorry,” he declared. “I think I know how you feel. You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.”

A small, but curious, crowd was beginning to gather around the four in front of the bakery. A light switched on in the bakery as Tom Dupain made his way to the front door. Sabine stood by the register, with a worried frown. The large man opened the door and moved to stand between the murmuring crowd and the four individuals who had turned into the evening’s grand spectacle.

Drake looked up as a slightly different bitter odor filled his nose. He searched the people around him for the source of the scent. His gaze passed over Ladybug just as she was relaxing her stance, the light of the street lamps and headlights giving her face a barely noticeable sheen as she began to sweat. She tensed again as she caught Drake’s cocked eyebrow. Drake quickly forced a pleasant smile as a fresh wave of the scent of Ladybug’s unease filled his nose. She looked away and he shifted his gaze to Chat who was giving her a similar expression that she hadn’t noticed.

“Alright, everyone.” Tom raised his arms, palms out, quieting the crowd. “It’s over now. The battle is over. Give these people some space.” He pointed out over the crowd. “Go home,” he commanded firmly. “There’s nothing more to see here.”

Convinced there was nothing left to see, a few people at the back of the crowd began to disperse. As they did, Drake smiled up at the two heroes standing in front of him. “Congratulations on a job well done, you two,” he commended.

The heroes flinched as their Miraculouses beeped just a few seconds apart from each other. Drake chuckled. “Why don’t you get home before your transformations wear off and get some rest?” he counseled. “You’ve definitely earned it. I’ll make sure Christopher gets home safely.”

“Right,” Ladybug answered, a little too quickly, “Bug out.”

She gave him a quick smile and threw her yoyo out, catching it on a nearby streetlight. With a quick tug, she was above the crowd and out of sight over the city rooftops.

“Take care of yourself, Monsieur Angelos,” Chat admonished just before he vaulted over the crowd and ran off for home.

Drake sighed and picked up the lamb in his right hand. He stood and stepped beside Tom to address the crowd. “I’m sure you all want to know what happened,” he declared. “The story will be told in time, but please be patient enough to not insist it be told tonight. No one needs this right now. If you aren’t a member of this boy’s family, I humbly request that you leave now and get back to your evening plans.”

A few more members of the crowd turned away and left just before a young girl on her bike and a TVi news van pulled up. Drake sighed and turned to Christopher. “Would you like to go sit over on the school steps?” he offered as he extended his free left hand.

Christopher gave a quiet “sure,” and took his hand. Drake led the way through the dispersing crowd to the edge of the sidewalk and looked up and down the street, checking for any approaching cars.

Nadja Chamack and her camera man pushed their way through the crowd in an attempt to catch them. Nadja reached out to touch Drake shoulder, seeking his attention for an interview. Drake felt her approaching steps and heard the “swoosh” in the air as she raised her arm. He pursed his lips and stepped out into the crosswalk with Christopher causing her to miss his shoulder. Making sure the camera didn’t catch it, Nadja pursed her lips together and gave a little grunt before following them across the street.

Once they made it across the street, Drake let go of Christopher’s hand. “Why don’t you take a seat on the stairs?” Drake suggested. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Christopher walked up the stairs and took a seat on the top step.

Drake turned to face Nadja with a smile he desperately hopped didn’t look forced. Nadja took that as her cue. “Nadja Chamack,” she declared, “don’t be bemused, it’s just the news. I’m here for TVi News, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about tonight’s attack. People have said you were seen-”

Drake held up his left hand for her to stop. “Madame,” he interrupted, “People will say many things and there will always be questions. I do not intend to answer questions now, nor can I, in good conscience, allow the boy to be questioned. However, I do have a few statements.”

Nadja pointed the microphone towards Drake, and he relaxed his posture as much as his newly sensitive skin would allow. He set his jaw and let out a long sigh. He turned towards the camera and gave it a slight glare before plastering on a neutral expression.

“First, Papillon,” he began with an even tone, “against all odds, you did the impossible tonight. You managed to make me think even less of your way of life than I already do. You have the power to give other people abilities, but instead of using that power to make our world a better place, you use it to turn emotionally vulnerable people into weapons in your battle against the heroes _your_ actions forced into the spotlight.”

Nadja moved to take the microphone away, but Drake raised his hand again. She stopped and returned the microphone to its previous position.

Drake continued, “There are many reasons for Paris and her people to hate you. Were I to count them, they would surely outnumber the sands of sea.” He clenched his fist and took a deep breath. “But no one has time for that tonight, and my next point is far more important anyway. So for now, I’ll just cover one of those reasons.” He held the lamb up in front of his chest. “This toy was supposed to be a source of comfort for a young mind.” He shook the toy at the camera. “And your actions have turned it into a source of fear for him. You’re not supposed to do things like that to someone el – No.” He pressed his hands together to gather his thoughts. “Let me rephrase that. This is one of those things people just aren’t supposed to do to children!” He dropped his hands to his sides. “What you do to people…” He balled his hands into fists, deforming the plush toy in his right hand. “There are absolutely _no_ ends that could _ever_ justify these means. There are some lines that even people who see themselves as villains shouldn’t cross.” He pointed back at Christopher with his left hand. “And you cross almost all of them with every person your actions victimize.”

Nadja squirmed just enough for Drake to notice. He sighed and looked away from the camera for a moment, letting his rising ire slip away.

He dropped his arm and looked back at the camera with a stone cold expression. “There are plenty of things I could say about your brand of _terrorism_ ,” he hissed, “but none of them are really fit for public discourse.”

“My second point is much simpler and far more pleasant.” Nadja relaxed a bit as she saw his expression soften. “I bear good news, of great joy. This is for the D’Larmont family. If you’re watching this, your son is safe. Ladybug and Chat Noir did what they do best. They saved him from Papillon’s akuma. Now, your son is ready to come home.” He swept his hand back towards the school. “Your son and I will be waiting here in front of Collège Françoise Dupont for you to take him home.”

Nadja turned the microphone towards herself for a moment and asked, “Is that all?”

She turned the microphone back when Drake shook his head. “My third and final point is this. I apologize. It feels like this day has gone on for months, and it is definitely time for us all to go home and get some well-deserved rest. I didn’t have my emotions completely under control for my first point, and was far more candid than I intended to be on camera. I will tell my story, but not tonight, and not to TVi.”

Drake caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He flicked his gaze away from the camera for a moment and saw a young, brown-skinned girl with glasses on her face and a smartphone in her hand. She was standing next to the bushes beside the school. He saw a small, round object hanging off a cord on the end of her phone. As it dangled, it spun just enough for him to catch the ladybug pattern on it. He gave her a slight grin then looked back towards the camera.

“This city holds many news-worthy stories mainstream media can cover, and not all of them have to do with the Miraculous. For those stories that do though,” Drake explained, “there is the Ladyblog. I will give my story to the Ladyblogger at her earliest availability tomorrow. Once she has my story, it will be up to her to present it in a timely manner. For tonight however, my only goal is to ensure this boy and his family are safely reunited before I retire to my flat for the evening.”

Drake turned towards Nadja and concluded, “Thank you for bearing with me, Madame Chamack. This is the end of my statement, and I will accept no further questions at this time.”

He gave a slight bow to her, and then to the camera, before turning away and marching up the steps of the school. Nadja closed her segment with a repeat of Drake’s request for Christopher’s family to come for him. Once the camera was off, she and her camera man returned to their van and drove away. Drake looked around, but couldn’t see the Ladyblogger anymore.

Drake sat down on Christopher’s right side to keep himself between the boy and his lamb. “I might’ve said even more than you did if you hadn’t,” the boy acknowledged. “Thanks for keeping her from pestering me.”

“I still ended up painting a target on myself… even with my less than impressive attempt at recovery at the end,” Drake admitted. “I probably just got myself one misstep away from being fired tomorrow.” His shoulders drooped as he sighed.

Christopher gasped and shrank away from the man beside him. He looked up at him with fear in his eyes and started, “I didn’t mean to –”

Drake twitched as the bitter smell of fear assaulted his nose again. He swallowed in an attempt to keep himself under control and put a hand on Christopher’s shoulder, attempting to placate the boy whose heart rate he could now feel speeding up through his gloves. “Christopher,” he reminded, “I meant what I said when I told you I wouldn’t be mad at you for what happened tonight. _Papillon_ is the one to blame here. _He_ is the one I’m angry with.” He leaned in towards Christopher and gave him a half-grin. “And if what I said made you feel better,” he whispered, “it was worth it.”

This small admission rewarded Drake with the sensation of the boy’s heart rate slowly decreasing back to normal as his muscles relaxed and a small sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Drake let go of the lamb, letting it fall to the cold cement behind him as he turned towards Christopher. “I could blame him for the things I said on camera,” he admitted, pressing his free hand to his chest for emphasis, “but in the end, it was _my_ choice to say those things, and _I_ am the one who has to live with the consequences.”

Christopher looked away and pulled back from Drake’s touch as worry replaced his fear. Drake could see the muscles in his face twitch, as if the boy was overcome by indecision with no desirable options presenting themselves.

Drake was about to ask him what he was thinking about, but a stray sound of crinkling grass by the base of the steps caught his attention. He looked towards the sound, but paused as his eyes caught a glint of metal under the streetlight next to the Dupain-Cheng Bakery. He focused on the area where he saw the glint of light and picked out the leading edge of a bicycle tire peeking out from around the far side of the bakery.

Drake scooted over to the railing in the direction he heard the sound. Shifting to a kneeling positon, he propped his elbows on the railing and his chin on his palms. He looked out towards the bus stop on the street corner and smirked. “Mademoiselle,” he cautioned, “shouldn’t you be home getting ready for bed? Tomorrow is still a school day, and there’s nothing going on now that you’d really need for your blog post tomorrow.”

Drake saw a red streak drop down onto the terrace above the bakery as he heard Alya stand up by the base of the steps. As he looked down towards her, he caught a short flash of light from the room atop the bakery out of the corner of his eye. She held up her phone and asked, “Can’t I just stay and get a quick photo when his family gets here?”

Drake interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the railing, regretting the rough feel of the extra fabric of the seams of his gloves pressing into his hands as he did. “I’m sorry, but no,” he refused with a shake of his head. “I already told TVi you would be the one to break this story, but tomorrow after morning classes, if you’re available.”

“Fine,” Alya crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, “just don’t be late.”

“Considering that I’m a new employee here,” Drake chuckled, “that shouldn’t be a problem.”

“So you’re the new counselor Mari told me about today,” she presumed, “I thought I saw you with her before lunch.”

“Therapist Drake Angelos, guilty as charged,” he admitted with a slight nod. “And I would assume that you would be the young lady who runs the school blog and the Ladyblog, Mme. Alya Césarie.”

“Yeah,” she answered, eyes narrowing, “how did you know?”

“The Miraculous of Paris and surrounding events are quite the interesting topic for people in my line of work. I like to keep up with things as they develop,” he explained, “so I’ve been following your blog for the past few months, making connections between the stories you’ve covered. I must say, you do good work. If you follow that passion, you could be a fine professional journalist someday.”

“Oh, well,” she acknowledged with a slight smile, “thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” Drake nodded down to her as he sat back down on the steps again. “However,” he admonished, “I do have a few things I’d like to discuss with Christopher before his parents get here.”

“Oh, I see,” Alya acquiesced as she pointed back towards her bike. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Drake smiled and nodded in thanks. While watching Alya walk away, he fought back a growl of discomfort as he slid back next to Christopher, his clothes still feeling like sandpaper against his skin any time he moved. He turned back to Christopher with a smile and explained, “It looked like you might have wanted to say something and I just wanted to be sure it was just us in case you didn’t want anyone else hearing it.”

Christopher hunched in on himself and shied away from Drake at his comment. “Oh, uhm, thanks,” he looked away and mumbled, “but… it was nothing.”

Drake fought the urge to cock an eyebrow at his apparent decision against talking about what was troubling him. A few minutes of silent waiting passed before he asked, “How much do you remember?”

Christopher squirmed for a moment, unsure of how to answer. His gaze wandered to the few visible stars above the city as he approached his answer in his mind. After a slight nod when he made his decision, he looked up at Drake out of the corner of his eye and mumbled, “Enough to know the real reason why… that man… doesn’t have Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses.”

Drake shook his head at the ambiguous answer. “That answer is enough for me, but there are some people who would press you to say more, people who don’t understand the value of keeping a secret,” He contested. “In case those people start asking you questions, I need to know how much you actually remember so I can help you figure out how to tell them the truth without them trying to get more information out of you than you’re willing to give. My only goal here is to help you get to living the kind of life you want instead of the life someone else tries to force on you. Please keep that in mind in regard to my previous question: ‘How much do you remember?’”

Christopher looked away from Drake again and sighed. He cringed as he mumbled, “Everything…”

Drake interlaced his fingers on his lap and leaned slightly over towards Christopher. “You remember all of it.” He looked down at him and requested, “Can you elaborate on that for me?”

Christopher looked down in his lap and sighed in resignation. “After we couldn’t hear that man anymore,” he explained, “we kinda sorta… worked together. Nightmare let me remember, and I promised I wouldn’t hold back once we had a chance at getting their Miraculouses…” He snapped his head up to look at Drake, eyes wide. He shrunk back and squeaked, “But he didn’t really want to win either since he knew how bad that man was! So it all worked out in the end, right?”

Drake put his hand on the nervous boy’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. He balled his free hand into a fist behind his leg as the bitter scent of fear wafted by him again. He could feel something brewing under the surface, as if being akumatized had unlocked some of the barriers walling of the boy’s deeper struggles. “Christopher,” he gently probed, “what made you want to remember what you did while you were akumatized?”

“I… I wanted to know what it was like just to feel powerful, to feel like I had control over something,” he admitted with a reluctant shrug of his shoulders, “just for once in my life. Was I wrong to want that?”

“From what you’ve told me so far,” Drake reasoned, “I can’t really say. Feeling powerless is something everyone faces at some point in their life. The important thing is learning to tell the difference between the things we can and can’t change and focusing our efforts on those things we can change. I can’t change how the headmaster and Mayor Bourgeois will think of me due to my outburst this evening, but I can try to find a way to convince them that something good can come out of it. Even if it doesn’t work out, I will have had a chance to show them who I am and how far I’ll go for my children.” He pulled his hand away and rubbed his chin in thought to his immediate regret as he once again forgot about his newly hypersensitive skin. He yanked his hand away and asked, “Do _you_ think you were wrong?”

Christopher clasped his hands together in his lap and started to rock back and forth a little as he tried to process what Drake had told him and figure out the answer to his question. “I… don’t know,” he answered. He grew still as he continued, “But knowing no one could hurt me did make me feel a little better even though I had to hide all day to actually use our powers again.”

Drake arched his eyebrows in concern at his answer. With a slight smile, he held his hand out towards Christopher and offered, “Would you say this experience gave you hope that things could turn out okay back home if they turned out okay tonight?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Christopher looked up at Drake with an unsure smile. “Yeah,” he responded, “I guess you could say that.” His smile faded quickly as he added, “I’m still sorry we made you fall into the intersection before Ladybug showed up to save you.”

“Christopher,” Drake sighed. He placed his hand on the back of the boy’s head and gently rubbed with his fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. The important thing is that we’re all still here, and that you can still have that hope for your home life even without superpowers. I said _we_ would get to that better ending for your dream, and I always keep my promises. I will be there for you if you need me.” He slid his hand down to his shoulder and added, “I will have other students I’ll be helping going forward, but I always do my best to make time for everyone who feels like they need some time to talk with me.”

A small smile spread across Christopher’s face as his only response to Drake’s encouraging words before a black, four-door Fiat pulled up, with the driver’s side facing the school. Drake removed his hand from him the moment the engine shut off. The driver’s door flew open and a fair-skinned man of medium build in nothing but star patterned pajamas and slippers flew out of the car. He raced up the steps, arms open wide, face overflowing with relief.

“Dad?” Christopher jumped up, a smile beaming across his face. He ran down to greet his father’s embrace.

The two of them met in the middle of the staircase, father and son embracing like they’d been separated for months rather than just a day. The father held his son and spun around on the step, lifting his son off the ground. He dropped to the steps, so relieved that he laughed through the pain of his fall. Drake smiled as he watched their reunion, happy that he’d been able to help the young boy through his trial and that his family seemed to be taking the first steps of recovery all on their own.

“We thought we’d lost you forever,” Monsieur D’Larmont admitted. He stroked his son’s face with his fingers and cried tears of relief as he continued, “Your mother and I have been so worried. We were so afraid something terrible happened to you. Ladybug and Chat Noir truly are miracle workers if they managed to save you from that wicked man.”

Christopher hugged his dad close, hiding his face over his father’s shoulder. “I was so scared no one would come,” he admitted.

“I’m so sorry for ever letting things get to a point where you’d think something like that,” his father apologized. He returned his son’s embrace. “We love you, son. Please don’t ever forget that.”

“I won’t, daddy,” Christopher promised.

Breaking their embrace, his father stood and turned to Drake. “Thank you so much for staying with him until I got here,” he beamed, tears still streaming down his face.

“I’m just glad to see a family reunited. It’s not a blessing anyone should take for granted,” Drake confessed. “You have a wonderful son. I just wanted to make sure you were reunited safely.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?” Christopher’s father asked.

Drake grabbed the lamb in his right hand and gave a kind smile. “All I ask is that you pay it forward,” he replied. He stood and looked at the plush toy in his hand for a moment. He looked back up at Christopher and asked, “Do you want your lamb back?”

Christopher shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll need it anymore,” he admitted. “You can have it.”

“As you wish.” Drake accepted with a slight nod. “I think it’s time we all went home and got some rest.”

“You’re right,” answered Christopher’s father, as he took his son’s hand to help him stand, “we need to get you home.”

“Goodnight, Monsieur Angelos,” yawned Christopher.

“Goodnight, young Christopher,” Drake yawned in reply, “I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

As Drake walked down the steps, Christopher’s father followed and asked, “Oh, are you one of his teachers?”

“Today was my first day as school therapist,” Drake answered.

“I see,” Christopher’s father replied. “In that case, my name is Phillipe D’Larmont, and I’m glad this school has people like you to watch over our children.”

“It’s my pleasure, Monsieur D’Larmont,” Drake replied as he reached the ground just beyond the steps. “Oh, and Christopher,” he turned to the pair as they finished making their way down the steps and added, “you can call me Drake if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Christopher yawned, “Monsieur Drake. You can call me Chris.”

“As you wish,” Drake allowed with a small chuckle.

Drake stood by as he watched Phillipe pop open the door to the back seat and smile as Chris got in and buckled his seatbelt. He smiled as Phillipe gently closed the door and got back into the driver seat and closed his door as quietly as possible. As they drove away, Drake smiled down at the lamb in his hands. _What man intended for evil,_ he mused, _You intended for good_.

Drake started his walk home for the final time that day, happy that he finally had some closure on his first interaction with one of Papillon’s victims, but still wary for his new friend Chris and his family, as a good first step didn’t mean the rest would automatically continue in the right direction. Something felt off about his interaction with Christopher’s family earlier that day. He was also filled with nagging questions about how unusual this akuma attack was compared with all the rest Paris had faced before. And with his senses still so hyperaware, he had absolutely no idea about how much sleep he could really get once he finally made it back to his flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a few months since my last update...
> 
> Balancing my work and home life has been a bit of a challenge, and video games and anime offer their own distractions, but I'm well on my way to having the fifth chapter ready for a first pass with a beta reader. Things may have gotten interesting in this chapter, but the rabbit hole goes much deeper if you're willing to come with me on this journey. I promise you'll like what you find.
> 
> On another note, I have a little bit of fanart to share with you. Just take a look at my sweet son. He's such a gentle soul: 
> 
> https://goddess-of-gales.deviantart.com/art/Drake-Angelos-Holiday-Picture-722544929
> 
> https://artisticgrace.deviantart.com/art/Christmas-S-Request-Drake-723208093
> 
> https://spektrai.deviantart.com/art/Everythings-Stays-725938704


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